


The Amulet and The Runt

by arcadia_trash



Series: Wren the Hunter Series [1]
Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Friends to Lovers, also not really, but not really, since Draal is already so young in the show, sort of arranged marriage?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-08-24 18:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 97,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadia_trash/pseuds/arcadia_trash
Summary: Wren lives much of her life as an orphaned runt, only taken in by Vendel himself to prevent her wild ideas from getting herself into more trouble. While he manages to steer her on a steady path of apprenticeship and later marriage, Wren can not help but feel that her life is out of her control. As if giving her an answer, the Amulet calls her by name, and changes everything she thought she understood about herself, her people, and her desire for mercy.





	1. It's A Hard-Knock Life

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first major fanfic work since...high school. About 8 or so years ago. There is honestly a lot I would rewrite about this story, but this particular project is more about proving I can FINISH a novel-length story rather than make it publish-worthy. I've learned a lot about my strengths and weaknesses already and I guess it would be no fun to NOT share it with someone. I love Wren to death and I feel like she deserves some time to shine.
> 
> I am currently working on chapter 19 as I publish this, and I am not sure how long this story will be, but I do intend to publish at least once a week. Hopefully I will finish up by then!

“Give it back!” Wren begged, trying to chase after a large hacky sack some other children threw around between them. “I found it!”

“Who gets their toys from the garbage?” the boy sneered. His horns were not fully grown, though their shape was becoming much more obvious. He tossed the hacky sack in his hand now, staring her down. “You can’t afford nothin’ so you gotta steal from the heaps, huh?”

“Just give it back. If it’s from the garbage then it means you don’t want it!” Wren said, growing more upset by the minute. She had been hoarding that ball for ages now, rightfully afraid that another child would seek to take it from her like they did with most of her things. Well, it looked as if her fears were right, and she should have played with it by her hidden nest. 

“No, you should fight for it.” he said, kicking it with his feet now. “You never fight though, do you? You’re pathetic.”

“I am not pathetic!” she whined, stamping a little foot down. This only made the crowd laugh more. A few of them stopped however, and even stepped back a little, at the sound of familiar, heavy footsteps.

It was Draal.

“What nonsense is this?” he demanded to know. They all clogged up the side street they occupied now, and a few locals were complaining about the traffic they caused. He looked at the boy with the hacky sack, which he held in his hands now. He recognized it as something Wren was playing with earlier, by the Heartstone, while he was going about his own rounds. “Relkor, I know that is not yours.”

“It is now. I earned it.” Relkor said, only slightly nervous to be in the warrior’s presence. Despite his age, he was the son of a brawny blacksmith and shared his father’s form. It gave him a bit of false courage, if nothing else.

“And did you earn it in a fair fight?” Draal asked. Wren spoke up and pointed to her offender, assuming now that he had come to her rescue.

“No! He and his friends took it from me after they did a dog pile!” 

Draal grunted with a nod, noting now that her left eye was slightly swollen, and her arms and chest bruised, from the attack. 

“I see, so no fair fight. Relkor, you may keep the ball, but only if you best it from Wren one-on-one, honorably.”

Wren noticeably blanched, and Relkor smirked. The children backed away from the two now, as Draal stood between them.

“When I move, the two of you will spar.” Draal explained, taking the hacky sack from Relkor. “Whoever yields, loses. Whoever wins, keeps it. Ready?”

“No.” Wren shivered in response. It hardly mattered. Draal stepped back and Relkor lunged at her. Wren squealed and tripped out of the way, which only allowed him to grab her foot and and half-drag, half-throw her in the opposite direction. She rolled a few times and landed on her side. As Wren tried to get up, Relkor kicked her in the back and held her down with his much bigger foot.

“Yield, runt!” he barked. The others laughed too, at her expense, and Wren’s lip trembled as her face flushed from resentment and shame. 

“I...I yield…” she muttered without resistance. Relkor gave her another kick, causing her to yelp and cower even more. The hacky sack was tossed to him and the children walked away, leaving only Wren and Draal. He shook his head at her as she brought her head up to look at him. She chirped a little and her ears drooped. 

“Learn to fight back, runt, or trollfolk will step all over you for the rest of your days.” he growled, and walked away. 

Wren fought back tears as she stood up, and stumbled a little from her bruising and the sore leg Relkor had nearly crushed. 

It wasn’t as if she was unaware of her fragility. If anything, it often made Wren hyper-aware of her surroundings. At least, as hyper-aware as she could be -- her hearing and smell were not as good as the others, and could only rely on sight to be wholly accurate. This allowed other children to target her from behind, where she couldn’t see. And it happened: a lot. 

None of the adults were very compassionate or understanding of that. Fighting amongst younglings was common, if not encouraged, to develop their sense of self-preservation and appreciation for defending their honor. If nothing else, it also taught them their limits, of how far they were willing to go in a fight. So when Wren was discovered to have an aversion to violence, as well as a soft heart, it was taken advantage of by almost everyone. And no one stood in their way, unless it was to make it a “fair fight”.

As Wren stumbled and limped back to her hidden nest near the Heartstone, fighting back tears, she literally bumped into Argh, and fell backwards on her behind. Wren looked up and blinked.

“Sorry.” she said quietly. Argh smiled, hardly fussy about the ordeal, but then it fell from his face.

“Wren sad. Why?” he then sniffed her and snorted out, frowning. “And hurt.”

“I lost a fight. Again.” Wren said, trying to walk by him. “I just wanna go home.”

Argh grunted and lay out a large hand to stop her. “No. What happen?”

“I lost a fight.” Wren repeated, not looking him in the eye. “I’m not very strong you know. I’m the only troll in the world who doesn’t fight and everyone hates me for it...”

“Not true.” Argh said, smiling again. “Argh not fight either. Pacifist.”

“Pacifist?” she asked, sitting down as he did too. 

“Means no fighting. Peaceful. Not a bad thing. And have best friend too, Blinky.”

He said this with beaming pride, and tussled her hair. “Wren not alone. Have friends. Stay strong in other ways.”

“Doesn’t help with bullies though.” she said with a sigh. Argh hummed. 

“True. Not big and strong, like me.”

“I wish I was! Then I wouldn’t have to fight anyone. No one would dare to touch my stuff.” Wren said, frustrated. “How can I get big like you? Is there a magic spell I can use?”

“Mmm, magic not safe. Better to be yourself.” he noted, getting up now. “If you not like you, no one like you.”

“I hate that answer.” Wren huffed, getting up as he did. Argh laughed gently.

“Come with Argh, show you something.” 

Wren followed, if reluctantly. She hobbled on her good foot and found herself in Blinky’s library. Well, it was nice here at least. Few ever visited this domicile, as few were interested in arcana and history. Wren herself didn’t care much for the books, but adored Blinky’s warm and welcoming nature, and found he had a knack for storytelling when caught in a good mood.

“Hi Blinky. Argh bring friend.” the Krubera announced. Blinky, who was shelving a few tomes with his four arms, turned to him. Expecting the Trollhunter -- Kanjigar -- or their Elder Vendel, he instead traced his eyes down to a little pink whelp. He grew a toothy grin. 

“Ah, greetings young one! And what brings you to my humble abode? Wish for help with some research? Perhaps another tale of ancient trolldom? You’ve caught me just as I’ve finished some tasks of mine.”

He paused after this, and lost his smile, sighing reservedly. Blinky noticed her bruising and roughed up eye. “Lost another fight, I see. You never did have a knack for the martial arts.”

“Thanks.” Wren deadpanned. Argh nudged her forwards with his head.

“Wren like Argh and Blinky, no fighting.”

“I daresay, old friend, I know a thing or two about battle!” Blinky said with some offense, and walked over with his hands behind his back. “Have I not trained previous Trollhunters? Do I not advise warriors today on proven war tactics? Was I not also at the Battle of Killahead Bridge? Or present for the Rocky Mountain War?”

“Blinky little like Wren. Not strong.” Argh said, now sitting down. Blinky grew unamused.

“I am not that little, nor am I that weak, Argh.”

“But I am!” Wren huffed. She took a seat and leaned against one of Argh’s arms. “I’m little and brittle and...and…”

“Pitiful.” Blinky added unhelpfully. Wren looked away, ears drooping. 

“Why do trolls have to fight? I don’t get it.” she explained. Blinky hummed, and sat on a stool in front of her. 

“Well, many reasons, actually. For one, it is in a troll’s nature to act and react aggressively, in some form or fashion.” Blinky began. He quickly turned into lecture mode. “We are, after all, a people of stone. And is stone not fierce, strong, and unforgiving? We use this aggression with pride, for it is what has kept us alive and thriving over the millenia. To weaken one’s resolve and vigilance is to ask for death.”

Wren rocked a little on her bottom as she sat cross-legged. She didn’t quite like this answer, but it was hard not to be absorbed in Blinky’s voice, and how he eloquently explained things. Well, so long as it was a topic that interested her. And learning how to survive? That was certainly priority in the moment.

“If one is adverse to fighting, well, they are adverse to life itself.” Blinky finished. “If you can not fight for yourself, then no one will. You must be your own hero. Not every troll is a warrior, but we are all called to defend what is our own.”

Wren frowned. “I like it better when people get along.”

“Ah, so do I -- but that is an ideal rarely achieved.” Blinky said with some sobrerity. Wren sighed and sagged her shoulders. She only looked up when he brought up her face by her chin.

“But sometimes, even the most aggressive of our kind are no use in battle, if they have nothing to fight for, if they have no heart to fight with. And my dear, you have that heart. Please, do learn how to fight for yourself, but never forget your passions, your reason for living. That is what will fuel the fire inside you to fight back.”

Wren frowned, but nodded. She would have to think about what he said. It was a lot to take in.

The next day, Wren had a new agenda: interviewing. 

“Draal, what do you fight for?” she asked the warrior at the pub. Despite feeling jaded for his lack of help just the day before, Wren figured Draal would have an answer. His response was immediate and proud. 

“For honor!” he said, thumping his chest. When she turned to Glug, she laughed at such an innocent and simple, if vague, question. Short and stout, her grass green, round belly jiggled a little.

“I fight for fun! For good times!” she answered, pouring Draal another round of her brew. Out on the streets, where Kanjigar was making his underground rounds, he rose his brows at the question.

“For the safety of trollkind. I am the Trollhunter, after all.”

Well, that was obvious, she had to admit. Wren then came across Vendel, sitting at a little corner amidst some shops.

“Fight for? Oh, I don’t spar anymore.” Vendel answered, eyes returning to his book. “Though in my past, and should I do so again in the future, I would fight for the well-being of my people. And for some peace, I admit.”

He said this with a growl, hearing another squabble brewing up nearby that he would likely have to break up. Wren wandered off to ask others, finding their answers fascinating. 

“For my shop!” Bagdwella, the local pawn business owner, told her.

“For the Heartstone.” answered both the guards at the Heartstone chamber. Others answered similarly to the previous trolls asked, and Wren began to grow frustrated. She discovered that, despite asking others, she did not know what she fought for herself. If she could fight, anyway.

It was not until she bumped into Rika, the local healer and midwife, that she found something of an answer.

“Well, I fight for many things, I suppose. I fight to keep my mothers and whelps safe, I fight to keep Lora well fed,” she referred to her daughter Wren’s age, who stood back looking at the other girl with interest, “and I fight for my own respect as well. It all depends on what I need or want, in the moment.”

A need or want. Was that all Wren had to have if she wanted something to fight for? As she thought about it, laying in her little nest later that day, hidden near the Heartstone, Wren realized she wanted a lot of things.

Firstly, she wanted people to be nice to her, to like her. Wren often daydreamed of playing with friends, and coming home to a family with a large, hot meal ready to eat. She wanted a place within Trollmarket where she did not feel like a bother to everyone. She wanted to have a purpose here, to be fully welcome and wanted.

Wren sighed, turning over and wrapping herself in a slightly torn tartan blanket. What she wanted was love, and she had no idea how to fight for that. 

\----

A century later, fortune found favor with Wren’s wish, if queerly so. 

“Don’t judge me, but I may have murdered someone.” Wren admitted with watery eyes. Blinky, knowing the youngling well enough, merely glanced at her over his pile of books as he wrote. One hand scribbled down updates of the library’s catalogue, and two lower ones held out tomes containing current records. His one spare hand laid on his face as the elbow rested on the table. Even historians in love with their job could tire of the mundane tasks required of them to maintain their beloved collections.

“I’m sure you have, my dear.” he responded. “Now what poor fool did you annoy this time?”

“No, I mean, I actually killed someone!” Wren leaned over the table, pushing aside the book pile and sounding frightened and ashamed. This earned her a glare.

“Wren, now is not the time-”

“Look, you said goblins attack in hordes, right?”

Well, that did it. All six eyes widened. “…Goblins?”

“Well, I THINK it was a goblin, and-”

Before she could finish, Blinky had already jumped up, grabbed her hand, and dragged her behind him. “You foolish girl! How long ago did you kill the goblin?! They could be here any second now!”

“But it was on the surface! They can’t get into Trollmarket, can they? And I said I was sorr--”

“You were on the SURFACE!”

“I’m a scavenger, Blinky!”

“AT DAYLIGHT!”

“I’M GOOD AT MY JOB OKAY?!”

“What is this?” a steady voice demanded. Wren realized where the troll had drug her, and she felt her ears droop. It was the Hero’s Forge, and just outside was Kanjigar and his son, Draal. Draal himself hid his amusement at the situation, knowing that Wren likely caused another kerfuffle. She whimpered a little, feeling intimidated.

Blinky nudged her forward like an annoyed father forcing his child to fess up. Wren swallowed and said, “I killed a goblin. On accident!” she emphasized when she saw their reactions. “I have no idea if there are more than the one I squashed.”

“There are always more.” Kanjigar grumbled. “Draal, stay here and make sure none have followed her into Trollmarket. I’ll go find this goblin horde.”

He then turned to her, grabbing his amulet from his belt. Wren swallowed again. She rarely felt at ease with Kanjigar: he was just so serious. And, well, dangerous. He was the most beloved Trollhunter for a reason, after all. But Wren being who she was - a runt of an orphan no one wanted, and causing more mayhem than anything else - found that she didn’t really mesh with his type all that well. He almost seemed to loom over her, his stern face looking down at the troublemaker.

“And I need you, in particular, to speak with Vendel at once. These games are not befitting to your age, Wren. It is time something be done about you.”

Ouch, that stung. Even if the warrior terrified her sometimes, he was still Kanjigar the Courageous. It was hard not to admire his feats, or appeal to his good opinion. Wren could only stare down at her feet as he walked away. First she accidentally killed something, now she was bringing shame to herself. Draal walked past, holding a stern look but carrying on to his given duty.

“You heard him, my dear. When a Trollhunter takes your call, it’s hard to ignore his own commands.” Blinky said after a moment, speaking more gently now. This time he lead her towards the Heartstone for Vendel, though they found the Trollmarket Elder on the street, on the way there himself. He had his nose in a book, smiling contently, with Argh close beside him. Both looked to be enjoying their little walk and chat.

“Ah, Vendel! Speak of the devil.” Blinky greeted boisterously. Vendel sighed and closed his book, though Argh happily greeted his old friend and came to his side at once. Wren failed to hide behind the two of them, as Blinky pushed her forward once more. Vendel had lost his grin before, and now he was frowning.

“Speak of the devil, indeed.” he said. “Alright Wren, what is it this time?”

“About that, it would be most prudent to, er, discuss such matters elsewhere?” Blinky answered for her with a forced smile. Vendel nodded with an eye roll and they made their way to the Heartstone. By now Wren was feeling especially silly, walking in a group of adult trolls discussing her problematic nature.

“I swear, if she has stolen more goods from that foolish store–!”

“Cans tasty.” Argh interjected, now smacking his lips at the thought of the canned pet food. Wren giggled, recalling her last failed escapade to bring in the cuisine to other trolls. Vendel and Blinky both gave her a look.

“Hey, it coulda worked.” she said with a shrug. At least she wasn’t near tears anymore. Blinky cleared his throat to signal her to quiet. They were now walking up the steps to Vendel’s work room within the Heartstone. Wren lost her smile, recalling the feeling of shame from earlier.

These games are not befitting your age.

Is that how Kanjigar viewed her attempts to do something right for herself? A game? She bit her lip, wondering if the sentiment was shared by Blinky and Vendel as well. Or even other trolls elsewhere. It stung more than she wanted to admit in that moment. Despite everything, Wren truly did wish to make her mark in Trollmarket. After years of living alone and being treated like an intrusion, all she wanted was to be looked upon as helpful and welcomed.

“So, little Wren, what nonsense have you started now?” Vendel asked, now that they had the privacy Blinky requested for.

“Uh…” she fiddled with the end of her long hair nervously. It fell past her shoulders, and much of it was held in a wide plait of two separate braids. It made it a handy fidget toy for stressful moments such as these. “I uh, I accidentally murdered a goblin…”

Vendel, who had been placing his staff on it’s podium, nearly tripped from shock. “You what.”

“Our Trollhunter is on the case as we speak, don’t you worry.” Blinky assured.

“Besides, it was on the surface anyway.” Wren tried to clarify, though it didn’t help at all.

“YOU WERE OUT DURING DAYLIGHT?!”

Wren groaned. “I know I know, I get it. It was dumb. I already feel terrible for killing it!”

“AND, if I may add, we believe it’s time we discuss Wren’s place here.” Blinky directed back to the reason for their visit. “She can be a rather precocious go-getter, and take on challenges she should not, but if we can redirect such passions, perhaps she could cause less of a fuss. Yes?”

Vendel shook his head and turned to walk to his work table. Various gems glittered under the light and warmth of the Heartstone. “Wren, come forward please.”

She did so, leaving behind a watchful Blinky and Argh just several feet away. She always held a timid fondness for the Elder, even if she rightly feared his temperament; he was one of the few, after all, to show genuine concern for her welfare. “Yes, sir?”

Vendel did not look at her, though he spoke clearly as he searched for a particular gem. “In all my centuries, and even millennia of living, I found it odd that a race such as ours rarely had orphans, even during Gunmar’s war before he was banished to the Darklands.”

Wren blinked. A history lesson? That was...not what she expected. Normally by now she would be chewed out for her folly. She listened closely as he continued.

“You had nothing when we found you, not even a name, and even now we have no laws pertaining to those without a family. I suppose that is why I found myself…lost, as to what to do with you when we found you all those years ago.” he continued, a half smile coming and vanishing, when he found a rugged piece of earthy turquoise and examined it. “We trolls do not take in blood that is not our own, nor do we meddle in the business of others if we can help it. Thus, I foolishly thought that so long as we made sure you could eat and sleep safely, then perhaps you would turn out alright in the end. Being a runt, we were surprised you survived your abandonment at all.”

Old emotions -- pertaining to her past -- swirled in Wren’s chest, but she pushed them down. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is…I failed you. We failed you.” Vendel pushed the chunk of turquoise into her much smaller hands.

“But, I’m fine! I can take care of myself, I even have my own business with my scavenging.” she tried to reason with him, holding the chunk of rock to her chest. Vendel only shook his head, causing the mane and beard to sway gently; his hands were held behind his back.

“You grow closer to being of age, with no family line to claim, no trade to learn from, nor a reputation to be proud of. We barely managed you to get you to learn and grow the way you are now. You…you deserved better than that, Wren.”

She didn’t know what to think of that. And to think she was expecting another long lecture and punishment for her foolishness. She especially felt deserving of such a punishment for killing another living thing: even if it had been an accident, even if trollkind did not care for goblins one bit. Again the old emotions creeped up on her, though Wren was unsure of what to do with them this time.

“So…what am I supposed to do now?” she asked quietly.

“From now on, you are my charge.” Vendel declared. That earned him a surprised gasp from Blinky, and a surprised grunt from Argh.

“I, what?!” Wren exclaimed, almost dropping her rough gem. It clanked on her hands as she scrambled to catch it.

“And with becoming a charge, there are rules I expect you to follow, obligations you must fulfill.” he added on more sternly. “No more meandering about, no going off without my permission, and,” he sighed, “no more of those foolish business propositions you always concoct.”

“But Vendel, taking in someone not of your line?” Blinky added in. He and Argh were at the work table now as well. “I understand the need for authority, but-”

“Even without Kanjigar’s urging to do something, I would have done it anyway.” he admitted. He placed a hand onto Wren’s back and lead her out to the entrance. “Wren, you so clearly need a family. And from now on, you are my family. It is time that someone finally taught you how to be a proper troll. Do you understand?”

Wren did not respond at first. First she looked at the turquoise, then at Blinky and Argh. Blinky looked a bit unsure of the whole thing still, but one could clearly see the idea working in his mind. Argh gave a toothy grin, his initial uncertainty now gone. Finally, she tilted her head to look up at Vendel.

“…I don’t have a choice about this, do I?” she finally said. He patted a large hand on her head.

“Now you’re getting it. So, take that gem to Bagdwella’s shop. I need her to find one of equal weight and size.”

“For what?” Wren asked as she walked down the stairs.

“You will find out eventually.” Vendel said with a genuine smile this time. “Now hurry along, don’t keep me waiting.”

And with that, Wren found herself walking to the shop just as he ordered.

—-

Wren had a vague memory of arriving in Trollmarket, a little over two centuries before. She could not recall anything before that. Not her own parents, not her old home, not even her clan or tribe: nothing. All that came to her in that early memory was a feeling of fear, confusion, and pain. She was only 18 at the time - a mere toddling - and never felt so alone and terrified before.

No one noticed Wren at first: not many trolls roamed close to the edges of their vast cavern, of little nooks and crannies leading elsewhere underground, where she came through. Few had reason to go to such passage ways they could not fit through. This left her alone for quite a while when she stumbled upon the edge of Trollmarket. What she did find, however, were gnomes. LOTS of them.

At first they were curious, wondering why such a tiny, weak whelp was all alone, and in such a risky part of town. Her raven hair did not yet reach her shoulders, though they all took turns poking through it to find the parasites that settled on the neglected child. One chattered at her softly, examining her nose and face, distracting her at first from the others. She tilted her head and chirped back at him, poking his bulbous nose in curiosity. He gave a hearty “ho ho!” and poked her nose back to her delight.

After some time, however, she wailed in pain and shock when one gnome nibbled a tad too hard on her sensitive skin, causing them to rush off in wayward directions to avoid any grown trolls that could have heard that.

Little Wren continued to wail and walk forward, hungry and thirsty and just plain scared. Her pastel pink skin had grown brittle from the malnourishment and it would hurt to move too fast. The little studs on her head, too, would never grow beyond that: studs. Her pathetic excuse for horns would stay carefully hidden in her hair as she grew up.

And that was about all that she personally remembered. Wren understood, from what others told her, that Blinky had eventually found her closer to the market, on a shopping trip for domestic things; immediately he took her to Vendel as she was clearly a fragile and sickly whelp, needing healing and care only the Elder could provide. Over time, after she had been aptly named and cared for, she found home and hearth nearby in an abandoned crate, in a nook just next to the Heartstone, and learned how to interact and mingle with the other troll children. Or at least, attempted to.

The interesting thing about trolls, is that they are a rough, nearly merciless race of rock folk: something Wren learned quickly. They are as stubborn as the base of a vast mountain and just as strong and unforgiving. But, Wren was not such a troll. While she tried to hold another whelp’s hand or gave a try at sharing a makeshift toy with a potential playmate, it almost always ended in a rough and tumble that left the poor thing crying and hiding away. As the hacky sack incident exemplified, Wren could not do much in brawn to defend herself or her honor. As such, she attempted to turn to wit and word to work her way out of trouble. 

Well, she wasn’t too good at convincing folk with speech either, if her run-ins with Kanjigar and Vendel were of significance.

Over the next century, as she grew into a fun-loving though trouble-finding child despite the bullying, Wren sporadically attended schooling lessons. Blinky, an informal instructor for those classes, would often prod her into attending when she normally wouldn’t. Argh himself would keep an eye on her, checking on her little nest near the Heartstone from time to time. Vendel would sometimes leave leftovers at her nest, knowing she had no one to feed or care for her otherwise; from him, she learned a love for tea. 

Other whelps would pick on her to a degree, even with such supervision, but eventually she found a friend at last.

Lora was her name. She was the daughter of Trollmarket’s only midwife and loved to escape her apprenticeship for the occasional adventure with Wren. She was a sturdy young lady now, much bigger then and now than her runt of a friend, and simple horns at the top of her temple. Her skin was a darker magenta, but also shared thick raven hair. Wren and Lora liked to pretend that maybe, way back in their family lines, they were related, but that was more girlish fantasy than anything else. As children, they had many fantasies they played out, and enjoyed their unique company. Lora’s mother, Rika, encouraged their play, happy that Wren found some companionship at the least.

But those were older days when she had no responsibilities. Wren neared Bagdwella’s shop now. It was odd, not darting in-between the stalls to avoid trolls who would give her trouble. She rarely had a plan in mind, preferring to live in the moment. Lora didn’t help, as she restricted any rational thinking to her apprenticeship with her mother’s trade.

So of course when Lora caught up with Wren just outside Bagdwella’s, that was when the trouble began.

“Okay, so, I am finally free!” she shared excitedly. “What are you doing?”

“Shopping, I guess.” Wren said, showing her the gem in her hand. “Vendel wants me to get another one like this.”

“Hurry up then!” Lora rushed. “There’s something I HAVE to show you!”

“Oh?”

Lora looked around for her mother and other relatives before speaking in a low tone. “There’s a crystal cave with glow worms nearby. And a whole lake! It’s crazy cool!”

Wren smiled. “No way! Any neat stones there?”

“That’s what I was wondering. But you HAVE to come along!”

“Well…I guess Vendel can wait a bit for me.” she said. It did not even occur to Wren to inform Lora of her recent adoption. “Just let me get the gem I need first.”

Lora waited eagerly, and luckily Bagdwella had just the turquoise that Vendel would need.

“Now hurry on you two! Keep out of trouble.” she shooed as more customers were coming along. After placing both gems into her bag, the girls giggled and rushed off to their new adventure.

—-

Vendel expected Wren to not arrive back to his workshop until later that day. Or even the next day. He also certainly expected her to get distracted while on her little task, as simple as it was, if only because she was a wild-hearted youngling and slave to the whims of her passing fancies. He expected her first responsibility to be somewhat of a headache, because he understood and respected the fact that she needed room to learn from and grow into her new life. Adjusting to the station of an Elder’s daughter was no overnight change to sneeze at.

What he did not expect, however, was to find his new charge’s friend to rush into his cave in a frenzy.

“Vendel! Wren! And the kelpie!”

He tensed. “A what?!”

And that was how he found himself with Draal, Argh, and Blinky further down into the earth, Lora as their guide, entering an opening almost too small for them. After the tight passage ended, it opened up immediately into a spacious cavern glowing and sparkling above the waters below it. He snorted, now understanding why the two would be enticed to explore here. Kanjigar would have to fully navigate it later after he finished dealing with the goblin mess on the surface.

“Where is she?” Draal asked, confused at the serenity of the scene. The way Lora was panicking, one would have thought they would find a rocky corpse not far in the water.

“Up here.” came a sheepish voice all too familiar. Draal leaned his head up. Blinky took out a flare and carefully lit it. A lot of the bioluminescent creatures dimmed down, but they found their target: a short, pink figure holding tightly onto a stalactite on the high ceiling.

“By Deya’s Grace, child!” Vendel shouted. Argh sniffed the air, and then snorted.

“Careful, kelpie.” he rumbled.

“Indeed, my friend, it could be hiding, waiting for an opportunity to strike.” Blinky said aloud as a warning. “Lora, where did it attack from the first time?”

“Somewhere in the water, over there.” she pointed to a far corner, where translucent kelp grew in a thick, underwater forest. Draal growled.

“So what are we waiting for? Let us go smash the beast already!”

“Please, someone help me?” Wren whined a little, and then yelped as she slipped. “Please!”

“Hold on, Wren! We’ll be there shortly!” Blinky spoke with a thumbs up. He then turned quickly to Draal and said, “Go after her, attack anything in the water that moves. I have Dwarkstones if you need them.”

“All I need are my own fists.” he said, cracking his knuckles. Another scared yelp from Wren brought his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Argh, go into the water and distract the kelpie. Draal, get ready to catch her.” Blinky repeated as he took out his own weapons of choice. “I’ll watch your back!”

“I gave you one job, Wren! One little job!” Vendel shouted as the trolls got to work.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” she cried back, slipping further from her perch.

Draal jumped onto an abandoned barrel nearby, and paddled with his hands as fast as he could to where she dangled. Argh jumped straight into the water and heaved himself to the kelp forest. Lora covered her face from fright.

“Careful! Caaaareful…” Blinky said more to himself than the others. His six eyes kept watch on all involved. Vendel held back Lora, his own eyes never leaving Wren. He would never let on that he felt utterly useless, but did admit it to himself inwardly at least.

Fool of a runt! He cursed in his mind.

Three things then happened all at once, and rather suddenly. Wren finally slipped and fell from her stalactite sactuarary; Draal, not quite close enough yet, jumped haphazardly from his makeshift boat to catch her in the water. The sudden commotion from that mess, as well as Argh swimming closer to the kelpie’s nest with his loud splashes, caught the said kelpie’s attention. With gusto and an unsettling screech, the kelpie pounced from its hiding place.

Even Vendel gave a yell in shock, pushing a screaming Lora further behind him.

“Wren!” he shouted. Both she and Draal were in the water now, the loud splash echoing in the cavern. Blinky shouted too, watching as Argh attempted to wrangle the kelpie as a distraction. He stood on a large boulder that protruded from the wall, half in the forested water, half above it. While the kelpie fought against his grip, Argh slid against its power on the wet, algae covered rock.

It was an ugly thing: slimy yet scaly, its mouth twisted into an evil snarl. It had a fur-like feather mane around it’s pointed head, and a long, snake-like body with several legs that twisted and thumped in an attempt to throw off the Krubera restricting it. Argh continued to strain against the creature without hurting it, unable to even steal a glance to see how the others fared.

“Keep it up old friend!” Blinky encouraged. “They are almost to us!”

Vendel held his breath. Draal had Wren to his side, who held onto his rocky, crystal back as he swam as fast as he could to the shore. He heard a faint beeping, and turned to see Blinky activating a dwarkstone.

“Blinkous Galadrigal!” he shouted. Lora shook against his arm.

“It’s not for us, I promise!” he shouted before throwing it, well aimed, to where Argh and the kelpie fought. “Heads up!”

Argh took it as his cue, and grabbed the creature by the head to throw it against the wall. It wasn’t enough to hurt it, but he managed to dive into the water deep enough to avoid the inevitable explosion of Blinky’s dwarkstone where it fumbled to get up. When the explosive device did it’s work, all heard it’s skin-crawling shriek and body parts hitting the cavern walls. A large wave from the explosion helped Draal and Wren to the edge more quickly, and both half-collapsed onto the rocky shore where Vendel rushed to them with Lora.

“Wren! Are you okay?” Lora asked, helping her up. The little pink troll barely managed to get onto her feet, and swayed in her place. Her purple dress sagged from the water weight and it clung to her now shivering body.

“Ooooh I feel funny…”

“You’re telling me.” Draal bit as he pushed himself up, only minorly scathed by the effort. He helped steady her. “What under earth were you two thinking?!”

“Argh!” Blinky shouted, looking out at the water as it began to still. For a heart wrenching moment, Wren felt her body sag at the assumption that the gentle giant was felled, and all because of her. Just as soon as that thought crossed her mind, however, he burst forth from the water, and reached the shore to stumble into their company. Blinky shouted in relief and joy and gave him a boisterous head bump.

It wasn’t all joyous though. Vendel had Draal escort Lora back to her mother, and Vendel himself walked Wren to her new home, thoroughly unimpressed and at his wits end from the rollercoaster of events that occurred in such a short period of time.

Wren winced as she finally received the lecture she felt she should have gotten earlier concerning the goblin mess. The fear of almost having cost the life of another troll for her childish adventure held back any retorts she normally would have given.

“And all over ridiculous glow worms! Really!” Vendel finished. He stomped over to his table, shoving crystals and gems into a basket. “At the least, I hope you received the turquoise I asked for?”

Wren perked up. “Yes, I did!”

She rushed over, and took off her damp bag. The gems were taken out, but then Wren frowned. One turquoise was perfectly intact, but the other…not so much. In fact, it split down the middle, completely destroying the heart of the gem.

“Oh no…no no no…” she groaned. They were dropped onto the table, where an exasperated Vendel picked up one of the broken halfs.

“Oh no, indeed. This is useless now.” he commented with frustration in his voice. In any other scenario, this would not have bothered him too much. After all, not only had he expected some faults of Wren to come up to begin with, but he had his fair share of cracked gems even as an expert. Sometimes, those things happened whether or not all the proper precautions were taken.

But it would not have happened in this case, had Wren not gone off on her little adventure. And she knew it. With a bowed head, she gave a teary apology.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I thought…”

Vendel forced himself to breathe in and out. As much as he wished to, he could not lash out again. Wren was genuine in her regret, and he wanted her to learn something from this. Calming down a little, he then formed an idea.

“Wren, you failed your first day apprenticing under me.” he explained. “When one is to cleave gems and exploit their power, you must treat them with tenderness and care. Acting reckless as you did today wasted a powerful opportunity that could have helped you.”

“…I’m sorry…” was all Wren could say. The two halves were then shoved into her hands.

“No more apologies.” Vendel said curtly. “I want results, not words of regret. If you are truly sorry for the folly you committed, then I want you to act like it. You’re sorry for disobeying my orders and interrupting my work? Then don’t do it again. Do what is right.”

Wren made a face, confused. “What is ‘right’, then?”

Whatever anger Vendel had waned dramatically. This infuriating child had more work put out for her than he initially predicted.

With a sigh, he finally replied, “That, my dear, is what I am hoping to teach you.”


	2. Winds of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren goes through many changes after becoming the daughter of an Elder -- some good, some terrible. These struggles lead her closer in friendship with the abrasive Draal, which sets them on a course neither could have predicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the last chapter, I actually put in the time to add in the italics where needed. Huzzah! I also came up with a lame chapter title -- lesser huzzah!
> 
> Also I think I gave Draal a PTSD flashback, now that I re-read this in hindsight??? Man am I mean to this boy. Just mentioning it now in case that would bother anyone.

It became overwhelmingly clear, very quickly, that Wren was only barely literate, and even less so in Trollish. She never read any of Blinky’s books (given to her to better understand the arcane magicks Vendel used in his craft), and instead flipped through them quickly to guess what the words meant based off of the illustrations. Blinky, as any proper scholar would, took offense to it, and reported the behavior to Vendel after his own attempts to discipline her as her tutor failed.

Vendel himself had a habit of switching between common speak and trollspeak while focusing on his gem crafting, especially when he involved any magical conjurations. There were ideas and conventions that only a troll tongue could embody, after all. So, he decided to use this habit to test the girl and see for himself, and not hold back from his Trollspeak while teaching her.

Half-way through explaining the properties of diamond, he noticed the blank stare Wren was giving.

“What is it, child? Don’t look at me so dumbly.”

“Um…what does [fault line] mean?”

Vendel snorted, got up from his grinding stone, and set down his tools.

“Enough of this nonsense. From now on, we use Trollspeak like proper trolls.” he spat, dusting off his hands.

“What?!” she squeaked. But that was the last of common speak she would hear in a while. Vendel immediately began giving her orders in Trollspeak, and she was completely lost. It quickly left her in tears, feeling more lost and confused than she ever felt before.

“Papa, please! I promise to pay attention! But I can’t use Trollspeak! I don’t understand any of it!” 

He only shook his head, pointing at the work table and instructing Wren in the rough tongue of their ancestral language.

One day, about a week after the initial outburst, and having finished up her usual chores, she ran off to enjoy her free time elsewhere. If Vendel wouldn’t speak in a way she understood, there was always the others, right?

Wrong.

Vendel had apparently spread the word around about his new rule for her, and suddenly all living souls in Trollmarket were using Trollspeak. It almost made her want to cry again.

Even when she was not around, folk began using it instinctively. It was as if they collectively realized how little they all used their mother tongue, and how it affected their youth. Most understood some of it, but a few - such as Wren, and her friend, Lora - did not speak it at all.

Of course, the two could not be together all the time. Wren wasn’t the only one learning a trade after all. One day when Wren snuck off to find her, she caught sight of Lora ,rushing out of one family’s hut to fetch more water from the underground stream.

“Sorry, but this lady is pushing out two whelps right now. I can’t”. she explained with some frustration. And by the looks of the tiredness in her eyes, Lora would rest for quite a while after the birth as well. Wren gave her good luck and good byes before heading off again.

 _Yeesh, I don’t have many friends, do I?_ Wren thought. Of course, Lora had a crowd she regularly hung out with, but they often didn’t know what to do with Wren when she joined. She was just the strange runt, nothing more.

Wren pouted and kicked a pebble in her path. Might as well suffer at home in the comfort of her own nest, she thought, and initially turned to the Hearthstone near where Vendel’s cave would be. But on the way there, she passed by the Hero’s Forge.

Outside of dropping off new or mended weapons at the entrance, Wren had never actually been inside of it. At most she had sat in the stadium, way up high, when there were battles or sparrings to watch and Vendel instructed her to be with him as they unfolded. But with the perk of an ear, Wren heard another person she knew somewhat well inside the arena itself: Draal.

His yells and grunts and roars were all unmistakable. Wren smiled. Ever since her little rescue from the cavern, she grew attached to Draal, and became eager to impress upon him that she was not completely useless as a troll. He was one of the few tolerant of her, if stern like his father.

Draal the Destroyer was far from “nice” of course; he, like the others, did not budge when it came to her discipline and boundaries. Yet, it was good enough for Wren at the moment. With quiet feet, she scrambled inside to see what was happening. The bridge echoed off the fight throughout the sheer drop below her, and now that she grew closer to the actual Forge, she heard laughter too.

Up close now, and hiding behind a rock formation, Wren watched as Draal threw around some of his friends in wrestling match. Despite being grown trolls, they were still playful in many ways. Wren giggled at the sight of Draal bellowing at one troll’s hit against the wall. Fighting did not look so bad when it was done for fun, and with so many friends, too. It was a side of Draal that the girl enjoyed seeing -- so much more pleasant than beating someone senseless, or scaring someone half to death with just a threatening stance.

By now, Wren retained more Trollspeak than she had previously. She was not fluent of course, but she understood bits and pieces of their conversation.

“[More…wrestling!]”

“[Need…practice…more axe.]”

“[That...true.]”

Draal watched with a smirk as another troll went to grab said axe, and he stomped his foot to initiate the crazy contraptions that made the Forge infamous. Wren herself stumbled back as the floor shook: levels were lifted off and twisting around, the scythes above came out and swung about, even the Soothscryer came out and reached the heights.

She stepped back to look at it, and almost missed one of the axes that flung her direction. Wren squeaked and dropped down, looking up to find the axe hitting the wall just behind her.

The others heard and saw her, some laughing but Draal himself frowning, and looking ready to reprimand her. Wren stood there sheepishly before rushing off in an attempt to avoid his stern words. This caused even more laughter as she left and she flushed in embarrassment.

Still, that did not stop her from going back. With Lora becoming more and more involved with not only her apprenticeship, but also sneaking off to party on the surface to blow off steam, Wren used the extra time to avoid Vendel and the other adults to watch Draal and his friends train. 

She listened to their words carefully, and watched how they used their weapons. After all, wasn’t Wren a gem cleaver in training? She was expected to make her first stone-charged weapon soon, so she figured she might as well watch weapons be used in action. Despite the incident from the first visit, they decided to let her be and ignore her in favor of practicing and training. 

Draal himself was surprised by the behavior. At least she wasn’t running off and getting herself in trouble. After strictly instructing her to stay in the stadium seats (in Trollspeak of course), Draal focused on the task at hand.

“[What a funny girl.]” one commented after Draal took a break to sharpen his axe with his arm. Looking over at her, he saw Wren sketching on a scroll, looking up at the older trolls periodically. He didn’t liked being watched and studied, yet he also knew Wren to be a strange little thing; it wasn’t threatening to him, merely unsettling.

“[You’d think the kid would be in that mad troll’s library instead.]” joked another. Draal smirked.

“[Nah, she hates reading. She only does it because Vendel makes her.]” he commented. That, at least, he could understand. He was literate, but not by choice. He preferred weapons training over reading documentation of magical works. Perking up, he got an idea, and faced Wren.

“[Come on over, Wren!]” Draal called out. Wren froze and looked up. Draal repeated himself, this time gesturing her to go to him. He and the others laughed when she nervously tripped over herself and plopped onto the stadium floor. Draal took out a smaller weapon from the rack and handed it over to Wren when she got close.

“[This is a short sword.]” Draal told her. Wren held it out, examining it.

“[Short sword.]” she repeated. The others laughed again as she fumbled out the syllables.

“[Swing it.]” Draal instructed her. He made the movement, and Wren copied him. Though, she overestimated her grip on it, and it flew from her hands. She flushed furiously as everyone cackled at the sight.

“[Again. Be more careful.]” Draal explained. Wren was handed the sword back, and she did it much more slowly this time. It was a clumsy swing, but it gradually became more fluid with each movement she made.

“[You’re getting it now.]” Draal said with a smirk. “[If you want to study them, gem cleaver, then I suggest actually using them.]”

Wren made a face, uncertain of what Draal told her, but she nodded anyway. Draal then began to show her and the other warriors how to hold and use the other weapons, getting into it and showing off at times. Wren giggled regardless, enjoying the close up views. He even let her try out a fractured though heavy warhammer, again earning more laughter when it toppled behind her and she flipped backwards. Draal could only shake his head.

Perhaps it was a strange friendship, but since when was anything normal in Wren’s life? She was going to take what she could get.

—-

Trollspeak, at some point in Wren’s life, became like her own mother tongue. Perhaps Draal’s weaponry lessons helped speed up the learning process, but one day Vendel noticed her clearly expressing her gem cleaving process for a warhammer she was enchanting, and commented, “My dear, you have done well today. Why don’t you take it easy until tomorrow?”

Wren was caught off guard by this. Unless it was a holiday of some kind, she never had a “day off”. Add to the fact that she was caught up in her plans to make a flaming hammer for the Forge as her masterpiece presentation, and Wren just plain didn’t know what to do with herself.

Over the past few years, Wren had felt herself grow into a new person. Not necessarily different from before, but she found herself fitting in better and enjoying more success in life. She wondered how in the world she could have never known about magical enchantment and gem cleaving. Though, a sliver inside of Wren always missed the freedom to roam about as she pleased. It wasn’t like she freely chose her current trade; there certainly wasn’t much she could do about it now.

A more positive change, at least, were her new friends, if few in number. Draal was her closest companion, having learned much from him, and he gaining much from her thanks to her gem cleaving skills. Her favorite though, was when Draal would return after a short trip with other warriors, and he would share stories of his small though enthralling escapades in the local pub. Wren always took a seat on the floor before him, in front of the others, to get all the details she could. Draal knew that she disliked violence of any kind, so he purposely left out the more gorey parts; those bits, he would save for later when he went out drinking with friends. He didn’t want to lose his favorite ‘fan’ after all.

Perhaps he was a bit egotistical about the attention, but Wren was too young and eager to please to truly care. Draal was special to her and she was grateful for his company.

Lora, sadly, was still more of a troublemaker. She began to rebel against her midwife mother, and outright quit not long ago.

“I’m sick of that life. I never asked for it.” Lora commented over a tankard of light grog. She, Glug, and Wren all sat in the tavern, listening to her complain.

“But you did it so well!” Wren said.

“So what? I wake up in the middle of my rest, to help a woman push out some screeching whelp. It’s not what I want.” Lora took another drink before finishing with, “And besides, the mothers don’t like me anyway…say I’m a bad influence or whatever.”

“You party a lot.” Glug answered truthfully. That was saying something, considering she was a brewmaster and partier herself.

“So I like to let loose! Cut me a break!” she snapped.

Wren winced, not liking how this was going at all. Lora was always fun-loving, but this was a whole new side to her. “Lora, it’s one thing if you decide against a trade. But you can’t just forgo them all and pretend it isn’t a problem. Are you sure that–”

“Ugh, not you too.” Lora complained.

“Yes, me too.” Wren said more firmly. “It’s not even about having fun anymore, and you know it. I feel like you’re trying to run from something. What is it?”

“You’re starting to sound like Vendel.” she sneered.

Wren huffed. “Well maybe Vendel knows what he’s talking about from time to time. He’s the one who taught me a trade I could actually do.”

“Good for you. You’re Daddy’s little girl and you do as you’re told even if you don’t like it.” Lora spat. She stood up abruptly and pushed back her tankard. “I have to go anyway, to a place where I can be myself and not have fake friends try and tear me down!”

“Lora! Come on!” Wren yelled after her, but it was too late. Lora was already out of the tavern. Glug patted her back behind her.

“Patience. Lora just mad, blow off steam at party.”

“Party?”

Glug smiled. “I go there tonight too. On the surface. I keep an eye on Lora for you?”

Wren smiled weakly. “Yeah, that would be really nice of you. Thank you.”

And so Wren left it at that. She would try and talk to Lora the next day, to apologize and see what they could do together. Perhaps she could help her set up a high end goods shop in the market? Wren may not have been an expert yet, but she had already been receiving great remarks on her handiwork with the simpler gemstones. Lora too was very sociable and charming when in a good mood, and would make a great saleswoman for a shop.

The idea must have made her smile throughout their quiet meal together, as Vendel eventually chuckled and set down his cup.

“What plans are you concocting, Wren? I know that look all to well and it’s worrying.”

“Nothing, Papa.” Wren said. “Well, actually…I am thinking of setting up shop.”

Vendel raised a brow. She laughed.

“No no, not like before. I mean, one where I sell my wares and skills. I would like to have Lora help me run the front, while I handle the gem cleaving.”

“Hm.” Vendel mused with a stroke of his beard. Though he rarely complimented his apprentice-daughter, he was not so cold as to ignore her growing potential. He also noted how Wren learned her lesson from her “business plans” of the past, recognizing that it was not her forte to be the seller; thus, wishing to hire someone else to run the sales end of things.

But Lora running the sales?

“Lora you say…I hear from her mother that she’s gone off path. Too busy chasing after wherever the fun is.”

“Yeah, I know that too.” Wren admitted. “But I think Lora would fit in it really well! She’s a troll’s troll, you know? She loves talking people up and having a challenge. Maybe it’ll help her on the right path again.”

“And you’re sure about this?” Vendel asked. After all, setting up a shop and gaining the supplies she needed would cost money, let alone involving someone with less than stellar discipline. But Wren was all smiles.

“Absolutely. I’m gonna talk to Lora about it tomorrow, see what she has to say.”

“Very well then. I’m not against the idea. Though, do be prudent about where you invest your wealth.” Vendel warned wisely, returning to his meal. “The Market is as ruthless as war itself.”

Wren expected her father to be nothing but critical, so the talk went smoother than she thought it would. So far, so good! The next day, Wren excitedly got herself ready. Her twin plaits hung sleek and shiny on her back, and her usually dirty work apron had been washed and pressed. She wanted to look as professional and presentable as possible; if Lora agreed to the plan, then Wren wanted to get started on finding a place to set up shop immediately.

“Wish me luck, Papa!” Wren greeted as she rushed out of her nest room and nuzzled Vendel good bye. He grunted, busy reading a list of records and not liking the work one bit. She giggled and left, eager to start afresh with her friend.

She skipped her way down the steps, and almost bumped into Draal at the end.

“Oh! Hey Draal. Papa is in one of his moods, just so you know.” she offered. Draal, not exactly the smiling type to begin with, often would return a smile upon greeting her anyway; so when he didn’t return her smile, she stopped to speak with him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh…it’s about Lora.” Draal said, looking uncomfortable. “My father sent me to fetch you.”

“What? Why? Is Lora okay?”

“She died.” he put forth bluntly.

In Draal’s defense, he was a warrior. Beyond that, he was a warrior with many kills under his belt, and even lost a few comrades over the centuries he had battled and adventured: including his own mother. It was not like he never understood the pain of losing a life – but, after seeing so much death, one grows used to the sting, and learns to handle it practically so as to protect oneself from further hurt. 

But poor Wren was not a renowned fighter. She never purposely harmed a soul in her life, nor had she ever seen anyone die. While spars and matches were fair game for death, Wren hardly attended those serious matches that could end with death, as she disliked violence more and more, the older she grew.

So when she was told of the news, after that terribly ended argument she and Lora shared just yesterday, she stood frozen in place. She didn’t believe it.

“No, that’s – she was at a party! What kind of thing would kill her there?” she demanded, sounding upset. Draal’s eyes furrowed in their own anger, and he snarled.

“Impure scum.” he said, spitting on the ground at the mention of such a traitorous troll. “I was...I was there.”

Wren grabbed his arm with both her hands desperately. “What happened? Why would a Changeling attack Lora? She was just at a party!”

Draal did not miss the confusion and hurt welling up in her voice the way tears did in her throat and eyes. Again his uncomfortableness returned. 

“She was a bystander, got caught up in the fight.” Draal began, he took her hands off of him and lead her through the quiet side streets to Lora’s home. “I was...supposed to…”

Wren reached for his arm again, leaning on it. “...Was she in pain?”

“No, I don’t believe so.” was all he could say. In truth, Draal had no idea if it had hurt. This time he did not have the heart to push her off. They reached the cave home of Lora and her mother, Rika. The midwife sat in the middle of her abode, weeping as a few of her friends sat around her. Glug was among them, gently caressing her hair in comfort. 

Rika, too, had Lora’s black hair, normally held up in a bun, though it was loose that day; her stone skin was a faint lavender grey rather than magenta, as Lora’s had been. Her normally bright amber eyes were sunken in and drenched in tears. Yet, Rika brought her head up when she heard the two enter, and immediately opened her arms to Wren as if she were her own child.

“Wren, my dear…”

Wren gave a a sob, not realizing how she held herself together so stubbornly until now. Seeing the poor woman crying and surrounded by her friends...it made Wren realize who she also lost. 

A friend, a fellow adventurer, someone with so much potential and energy...gone, all because of some Changeling spy who wasn’t even after her anyway.

Draal watched awkwardly from a distance, unsure of what to do with so many mourners in one space. It didn’t help that he knew to be partially at fault for the sorrow swelling up among them. Kanjigar, still in his Daylight armor, placed a hand on his shoulder. He came in from outside, speaking with one of her friends from the party, when he heard the two enter.

“Son, I need you to take care of things here.” he ordered him. Draal bristled, trying to keep his voice low so as not to disturb the others.

“I can go after Normura.” he insisted. “I have unfinished business with her!” 

“Your affair with that Impure is the reason why this mess began.” Kanjigar said coldly. Draal clammed up, having nothing to retort with.

It _was_ his fault. Despite having helped and protected the girls and others in Trollmarket, despite having completed numerous feats of strength and bravery: he failed this one time. He failed his father by sneaking around with an Impure, whom he thought he loved, and because of this, risked the life of an innocent. An innocent close to one of his friends. 

Draal couldn’t look at his father, and instead turned his attention to Wren, who was in Rika’s arms as they both cried over the loss of Lora. He felt a hitch in his chest as a wave of guilt overran him. 

“I’m sorry for failing you, Father.”

“Which is why I insist that I work alone.” he replied. “I need you to trust me on this: I am the Trollhunter. My duties are my own, and you have no place in them.”

“Father--”

“That is final.” Kanjigar interjected with some bite to his tone. “I want you to stay here, and be guardian to those in Trollmarket, as you should have been last night.”

Draal was left alone, the Trollhunter going away to see if he could find any trace of Nomura. His fists clenched and unclenched in shame, irritation, and anger: some of it at himself, some at his father, and the rest at his situation in general. 

“Draal?” came a soft voice. His vision focused and saw a bleary-eyed Wren standing in front of him. She looked concerned for her friend, who was visibly growing more and more uneased. “I can go home now, if you want.”

He sighed. “If you wish. Are you alright, Rika?”

She nodded, still seated in agony and surrounded by her loved ones. “Yes, please, go. Do not feel the need to burden yourself here longer than needed.”

Wren gave her late friend’s mother one last embrace, and lead herself out. Draal followed, just a step behind her, and to her side. 

“Thanks for helping me.” she said after some time. They were nearing the Heartstone now.

“No, it was my fault that this happened.” he confessed. They reached a more private corner of the plaza in front of Heartstone, and placed a hand on her shoulder to turn her to face him. “I...I am ashamed of what I did.”

Wren frowned. “Draal, I have no idea what happened at that party, but I don’t blame you. You’re a good warrior, a good friend. You wouldn’t hurt someone like Lora.”

He blew air from his nose in frustration, rattling his nose ring a little. Her kindness was grating on his nerves. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“So? Try me.” Wren challenged, wiping away a leftover tear. “I’m your friend, I’m supposed to understand.”

“I…” Goodness, how in the world was he supposed to tell a little maiden that he was goofing around with a Changeling? Even if he was tricked, he was still the one to tell her about the party. He was the one who took her there; the one to not notice in time that something was off about the whole affair…

_At the party…_

_Some sort of bizarre human music blared in the background now. A smaller troll got rolled up in the corded phone on the wall, his friends laughing up a storm, and another jumped back with a shout as he turned on the bulky TV with curiosity, MTV adding itself to the chaotic noise and energy of the party._

_Draal, in that moment, tried to drown it all out as he looked around for the tub of glug. Glug herself had a habit of letting trolls move it around from room to room, which proved annoying in that kind of environment. Nomura probably thought it would be a funny joke, having him run around half-drunken party-goers just to grab the two a couple drinks._

_He smirked. That’s why he was crazy about her. Always keeping him on his toes! He hated and loved it at the same time, giving their attraction a tug and pull that drove Draal crazy in all the right ways._

_There was some kind of uproar in another room, though he ignored it. Rowdiness at a troll party was hardly unheard of, and Draal was starting to get thirsty for anything he could find. He wondered if his father would ever show up; the rumor of a rare talisman being traded at the scene was an enticing one, and did not doubt that Kanjigar the Courageous was somewhere in the shadows, keeping an eye on things and looking for anything suspicious._

_His father would not be happy to know that he was here. But that would be a problem for another day. Right now, he wanted to show Normura that he trusted her, no matter what she was, and perhaps help his father if he saw the chance. With a warm glow in his chest, he realized that perhaps the Changeling woman could help them, thus giving Kanjigar a reason to welcome her once they could be introduced._

_Such fantasies were put to a halt when he heard the commotion from the other end of the house put forth a blood curdling scream. Draal turned on his heel and rushed towards it, pushing aside anyone in his way._

_In the room, he watched Normura fling aside Lora, who gripped her poisoned stab wound. She had been dancing with another troll, who snarled and raised a fist to fend off the oncoming attack. On his belt, was tied an odd shaped parcel -- the talisman they heard about!_

_But before Draal could do anything, Kanjigar dropped on top of Nomura, and began his fight, chasing her outside. Amid the screams and confusion, he watched Lora slowly turn to stone, gone forever._

Draal returned to the present moment. Wren must have noticed him visibly shaken about the situation; she reached out and patted his arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Draal shook his head.

“I...I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. A warrior should never let his guard down. But I did. And for that, Lora paid with her life.” he looked Wren in the eyes. “For that, I shame you and Rika. I’m sorry.”

Wren bit her lip, and moved in for a hug. Draal stiffened at the sudden display of affection, but thankfully she backed away as soon as she gave it. 

“It’s okay. It really is. You didn’t mean for it to happen; you were tricked. The blame is on that Changeling, not you. Not ever you.” Wren affirmed. “You’ll always be my friend.”

Draal gave a bitter bark of a laugh, admiring her stubbornness. 

“My friendship isn’t funny!” she half-pouted, slapping his arm. Draal cleared his throat though he gave her a tired grin.

“No, it isn’t. But you are one stubborn troll if I ever met one.” he said. “If that is how you feel, then so be it.”

Wren smiled now. “Good, because it’s a friend’s job to cheer each other up. And...I have a job for you. After everything that’s happened today, I think I know what I should be doing.”

“And what would that be, Wren the Runt?”

“Okay, first of all, no more ‘Runt’; I’m Wren the Cleaver! I’ve made gems for warriors like you and been praised for it!”

“Alright, Wren the Cleaver.” he amused her. “What would you like of me?”

Wren paused, as if searching her words, before continuing. “Well, I’m just old enough to live on my own now, technically speaking. But I need help convincing Papa that I can. He had no problem with me starting my own business with gem cleaving, but he’s just as paranoid about me now as he was when he first took me in. Moving out is a little more of a big deal to him.”

“Ah, daddy’s little girl finding her independence?” Draal teased with a ruffle to her hair. Wren huffed and shoved his fingers away.

“You make it sound silly when you say it like that! But yes.” she confided. “I feel like Papa listens to you, and you listen to me, so...could you put a good word in for me? Please?”

Draal agreed, and was met with another excitable hug. He let her have at it; his new given task would at least distract him from the swirling feeling of disappointment brewing in his chest. 

When they made it to Vendel’s cave, he watched as Wren greeted her father with a nuzzle.

“I heard what happened from Kanjigar.” he spoke, sitting at his table. More records were before him in the form of a tome. No doubt the recent scandal was keeping him busy. Still, he reached a comforting arm around her when she greeted him and pulled her in for a semi-hug of sorts. “I’m sorry you had to hear about it from someone other than me, Wren.”

“It’s okay, Draal helped me out.” she confided. Draal cleared his throat and continued to stand at the entrance. 

“Then rest up.” Vendel told her. “I don’t expect you to do much while you mourn.”

“Sure.” Wren replied with some surprise. He had her work like a goblin minion when he managed to wrangle her into his workshop, so she did not see the need to argue with him on this. She gave a knowing wink and smile to Draal before heading down the tunnel that lead to her nest and lodge, hoping Lora was helping her somehow in the afterlife with all this luck. 

“I see you two are getting along well.” Vendel noted, returning to the tome in front of him. He made another mark in it.

“At her insistence, yes.” Draal said. “She, uh, she’s very smart, and knows what she’s doing.”

Vendel looked over, unimpressed by the stumbling of words he put together. “Is she setting you up to something?”

Draal looked away and rubbed his head. “Heh, well, sort of. Wren was telling me how she would like to move out soon. Said you trust my opinion.” He paused momentarily before adding, “Do you?”

The Elder chuckled. “I suppose I do value your word, from time to time. And I admit, Wren has grown to be more self-sufficient as of late. Yet…”

“You worry for her.” Draal finished for him. He knew that look Vendel had all too well, the one of a parent fearful for their child. 

“I do.” Vendel admitted. He shut the tome and stood to face Draal, holding it behind his back. “Especially so now, with Lora’s death and the circumstances surrounding it. Anyone with a whelp or youngling in their home is going to double down on their safety, never letting them leave their sight.”

Draal clenched his jaw at the mention of Lora. He didn’t realize his folly would carry out such a large shockwave. Even if Wren insisted otherwise, deep down Draal felt as if he were to blame.

“Because of this...I will only agree to Wren’s moving out, on one condition. I wish for you to keep an eye on her, where I can not.”

Draal’s eyes widened. “Really? Just that?”

“It is clear that the world is becoming less safe for trolls, especially for our young.” Vendel explained. He held the tome and walked over to a shelf to set it down with others. “Wren is bright, and cautious now, much more than before I took her in, but she is still...well, not troll-ish, as Blinky once poetically described.”

Draal nodded with a grunt. Everyone and their local gnomes knew Wren to be physically weak compared to the others, and not one to rush into a fight. Not everyone was Kanjigar the Courageous, sure, but even Unkar the Unfortunate had enough guts to charge into his first and only battle with honor. Wren? She was the easiest target around, and only felt as safe as she did thanks to Vendel’s position. Incidents with the likes of Relkor dropped down to nothing since that day. 

Draal didn’t have enough fingers to count the amount of altercations Wren got herself into before she was taken in. But, even her role as Elder’s daughter was starting to look like it wouldn’t do now, with shady trolls sneaking around on the surface doing Merlin-knows-what.

“I understand. She won’t be harmed under my watch.” Draal vowed. _No one will be harmed ever again because of me, especially Wren._

“Then it’s settled.” Vendel turned to him with a small grin. “I’ll be sure to meet with your father later, on security matters. I’ll speak with you, shall it affect your duty to Wren.”

“Understood.” Draal shared. He left the cave after Vendel gave his farewell, still feeling low from his failure, but soaring with hope after this new opportunity. Becoming the personal guard of the Elder’s daughter was sure to get his honor back in the eyes of Kanjigar.

\----

Wren of course heard everything. She silently cheered at the acceptance of her permission to live on her own, but grumbled at the thought of Draal shadowing her. Well, tit for tat, she supposed. Draal was a friend anyway. As soon as he left, Wren snuck back to her nest for a well-earned nap. She would need the rest for the days ahead, and renewed hope in Lora’s memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More headcanons to explain!
> 
> Trollspeak/Trollish -- I kinda see this language as like...less commonly spoken verbally? I know its a kids show and they don't want to confuse their younger audience with subtitles but I always found it interesting when most trolls spoke perfect English even though they never interact with humans. I like to think it's something like Latin: a pain in the ass to conjugate and difficult to learn, at least compared to human languages. So older trolls, and those trolls who take their heritage seriously, learn the language, but younger trolls and other commoners tend not to speak it (hence why Vendel refers to English as "common speak")
> 
> Dad Vendel -- Wren calls her new dad Papa right off the bat, because she has a family now, ye boi. Also Vendel is a Grouchy Goat Dad, who is strict but still supportive.
> 
> Draal and Wren friendship -- They're gonna be awkward okay? Draal is mean and dumb and Wren is a dork, yet they find themselves relating to each other for reasons related to family issues. Plus you know Draal is an attention whore, and Wren is happy enough that someone is giving her positive attention in return. Let the friendship COMMENCE.
> 
> NomuraxDraal -- I have no idea when they officially meet in canon, so for the sake of the story I settled on the 1980s. I am a HUGE fan of Dromura, and I do plan on a redemption with Nomura in a future fic, but right now she is an enemy and officially over Draal. Again, for the sake of the story. Otherwise they are oh tee pee.


	3. All's Fair Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Wren reaches adulthood, she begins to discover that she is not in as much control of her destiny as she once thought. Her limits are pushed when a foreigner's visit creates a controversial stir among the denziens of Trollmarket, forcing her to make a choice of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One and Two of this event was SO much fun to write. I also introduce a new OC hope y'all love this stupid dork.
> 
> Also I only just recently noticed that the end notes from chapter one ended up at chapter two...? Idk how to fix it but I will try and prevent that in the future.

Vendel knew that Wren was reaching adulthood – only a few short years off, in fact. And she had come such a long way since her street rat days too: she diligently studied under his tutelage even after she found her own cave home, crafting impressive gems and enchanting a few weapons. While Wren never went ahead with her plan to open up a shop, she did sell her wares regardless to those interested, and was particularly popular among warriors and hands-for-hire for her work with weaponized gems. Odd, perhaps, for someone who claimed to dislike violence, but Wren refused to think about it too hard. So long as she had her own money to spend, and her friends had the ability to protect themselves, then she was happy.

Thinking about all that Wren accomplished gave Vendel pride. It made him even happier to know that she could do her work under his watchful eye, in the Heartstone. Perhaps it was guilt over not taking her in sooner, or for fear that Wren would slip back into her old ways, but the Elder was anxious to keep her close and have tabs on everything that she did. Their afternoon tea time, their meals shared, their walks to local competitions or festivals, their ongoing lessons -- all of it was done not only out of genuine desire to act as father and daughter, but to also make sure that Wren was steered down a steady, safe path.

Yet, Vendel could not quite pin down, in his mind, that she was practically of consenting age now. Wren was still somewhat of a runt (half a foot shorter than Blinky, he observed once), but otherwise filled out and carried a beauty of her own. Furthermore, her childishness refined itself into wit, and charmed anyone in her company. It was fitting for an Elder’s daughter, to say the least, and lent its usefulness in Trollmarket squabbles and visits from out-of-towners more than once.

One event that could be recalled with both humor and bemoaning was that of the Wumpa King, Blungo, and a solitary wumpa male he was in rivalry with. Rika must have informed Wren of the Quagawumps bizarre marital habits, as Vendel would have never spoken of them to his daughter himself; but Wren was the sort to figure things out one way or another in spite of him.

“It’s so savage, forcing all troll dames to only ever marry the same troll man!” Wren argued with Vendel as they walked to the Council Chamber to settle the matter peacefully. For once, it would not do to have a fight settle the dispute. Wumpa males were rare in their tribe, and even the king would not slay a fellow Wumpa man unless it was a last resort.

“It is what it is, and you know well enough that the injustice of it can not be overruled in one meeting.” Vendel said to her quietly as they drew close. “Besides, Wumpas are a stubborn folk, protective of their kind and their traditions. They will only ever listen if they know the proposal would benefit them.”

Wren looked as if she were going to argue, but then caught herself, humming in thought instead. Vendel knew her well enough to know that he would have preferred her to give a snarky come-back, as her thoughtful face always lead to something that he would regret.

Yet, as always, Wren managed to surprise him.

“But great king, how many wives must you put up with on a daily basis?” Wren pestered Blungo during the meeting. Vendel had made his proposals that were aptly shot down, and only let her speak as he was desperate to prevent in-fighting in their own chamber. The Wumpa woman in question sat in the corner, looking unsettled, and had no say in the matter. It spurred Wren to speak for her however she could, even if it meant buttering up to the men she spoke with.

“Put up with?” Blungo asked. Wren nodded wisely, as if it were the most serious thing in the world.

“Trust me, great king, for I am a woman myself. We are demanding creatures, yes? We need so much attention, and confirmation of love, and basic needs to be met -- well, I don’t doubt you _could_ make all the wives in the world happy! But I do wonder, do they truly appreciate what you give them?”

Blungo’s eyes widened. “Ah-pree-shee-ate?”

“Dames can be so finicky, you know. One little slip up, something that hardly matters, and poof! She’s out of your life and warming another troll’s nest.”

Wren sighed dramatically.

“Oh king, I do wish the fairer sex could understand -- nay, _comprehend_ \-- the goodness you could bestow upon them: but they can not! It’s impossible for them to truly know how good you are to them!”

“B-but what should I do?! They’re my wives!” 

Now, Wren gave a little grin. Vendel tensed and prayed to the Fates that she had a good setup for all that nonsense she spewed out.

“Well, as good as a husband you may be, some wives may feel...underappreciated, jealous of other dames, for receiving things from you that they do not. What would you rather happen -- that you gift wives to men who are loyal to you, thus adding to your strength, or to hoard all the dames in the world and have them stab you in the back anyway?”

That did it. Blungo immediately “gifted” the Wumpa woman to the other male, so long as he would fight for the king when called upon. Soon, word got out of this transaction; for many moons after the meeting took place, Wren and Vendel were receiving wedding invitations for Wumpa women marrying off to newly knighted Wumpa men in their formerly all-female army. Wren gleefully collected all the invitations, and displayed them on her hearth’s mantle piece with pride.

“You were right, Papa.” Wren spoke up one day, hosting their usual tea time in her sitting room. Vendel mixed some of his tea with glug and crushed obsidian, and glanced over to her with interest.

“About what, my dear?”

Wren’s eyes flickered with playfulness, and she showed him yet another wedding invitation from the Quagawumps. “The injustice was not overruled in one meeting. It was overruled in half of one.”

Vendel groaned, taking a shot of his tea to hide his smile, as Wren laughed.

\----

The new appreciation and admiration for Wren from others was well earned, indeed. Still: a well-groomed and educated Elder’s daughter also brought about other kinds of attention, one even Vendel was surprised by: or rather, did not wish to happen so soon.

Draal, per their agreement, kept an eye on Wren over the years. He made sure she was where she needed to be, and often stood in the background when she went about her shopping, or when she ventured into crystal caverns well outside of Trollmarket’s protection. 

There was another layer added to this agreement as well, though more of a silent one. As Wren became a young lady, she caught the eye of more than one overly interested troll her age. Draal himself felt uneasy about it, hating that others were trying to woo her already; when Vendel made a remark of Wren being annoyed by the teasing, Draal took that hint and ran with it. Any troll unlucky enough to snake their way into Wren’s presence for nefarious purposes would feel the threat and wrath of the Destroyer later on, when she wasn’t around to see it. 

The most prominent moment of this came about with Relkor himself. Like Wren, he had grown skilled in his own trade, though he shaped weapons from raw metal whereas she merely enchanted them. After having ignored her for the most part since her adoption, they met again one day at his father’s forge for Wren to place an order. His father Belkor was inside the shop for a change, and Draal, as usual, stood a ways back, keeping an eye on the scene.

“About time you came for a visit.” Relkor said with a smirk, looking her over. “All this talk of you cleaving for weapons, but I’m the one actually forging them for you.”

Wren flushed as she handed over her list of wanted items. “More like Belkor does. Just place the order for me, will you?”

“Nothing against the rules to chat a bit. I wouldn’t mind.” the taller youngling said slyly. By now Draal was tense, noticing his odd stature and ready to step in when needed. Wren herself scoffed. She may have been scared of Relkor then, but now she had new confidence and the status of Elder’s daughter to defend her will. So, of course, Wren talked back roughly and bluntly.

“Well, I would mind, considering you only ever bully and tease me. Don’t fool yourself.”

“Aw c’mon, we were just whelps then. Harmless stuff.” Relkor blew off as he leaned towards her across the work bench. “Look, sure, maybe I was a bit mean-spirited then, but it was all in good fun.”

He then placed a rough, yellow hand over her pink one, his voice softening. His blue eyes looked into her golden ones. “We can have some good fun again, if you like.”

Before Wren stumbled out an offended retort, Draal silently drew up behind her, casting a bizarre shadow thanks to the neon blacksmithing sign above them. Relkor’s face visibly sank. He was very tall, but did not have the same girth nor experience as the warrior before him.

“Draal?” Wren said with some confusion and innocence, turning to him. He stared straight at the boy, placing a hand on Wren’s shoulder.

“Just wanted to remind you about Blinky. He’s expecting you for another lesson.”

“Oh! Shoot, you’re right.” she said with a smack to her head. “He gets so fussy when I’m late. We should get going.”

“Go on ahead. I need to handle some business here, myself.”

Wren smiled. “Sure, see you in a bit.” And she walked off, oblivious to the dangerous grin that grew on Draal’s face as soon as her back turned.

“Tell me, Relkor. When was the last time you had a fair fight?”

He gulped, suddenly realizing the perk of having a pacifist Elder’s daughter to keep company. Though of course, Draal made sure he never spoke to her again anyway.

This brotherly act of love and others, unknown to Wren, took its toll on her. She had been pleasantly surprised by the sudden surge of flirtations, even if it were annoying at times; most trolls merely gave her distant respect as the daughter of Vendel, and before that, Wren had been the butt of many jokes and teasing. So once the newer, more flattering forms of attention suddenly dwindled and disappeared, she grew forlorn over something that she felt was just a massive prank at her expense. It would not have been the first time that such a thing occurred, and Wren felt foolish for thinking that anyone would have seen her as a romantic interest. Her old dream of finding a future husband fell through before she could even consider it seriously.

One day, this sadness overtook her suddenly, and Wren sat aside on the street while walking with Draal to the Forge. She sighed and leaned back on the wall of rock, her travel bag full of work journals and tools up against her chest. 

“Tired already?” Draal commented with a mouth full of tin can. He stopped and turned to look down at her where she stood.

“No one likes me, do they?” Wren said to Draal. He flushed and choked on the food, assuming she was referring to the sudden drop of troll boys seeking her attention. While that was partly true, it also opened a dam of other problems for her.

“Ah...what makes you say that, Wren?” he eventually said after a rough swallow. She shrugged. 

“Just...everyone thinks I’m strange.” she explained. “Bagdwella and Glug are my only friends, and Rika is like a mother to me. But they’re all matrons! I have no one to talk to my age. And...”

Draal knew where this was going now, giving her shoulder a hearty shake. “I won’t hear any of that, not from my own friend. Why don’t we continue on to the Forge, show you some new weapons that came in?”

Wren humphed. “Sure, it’ll make my day brighter, having your entourage make fun of my bad form.”

“It is rather bad.” Draal teased, and laughed when she hit him with her bag. “I mean it. They are just that, an entourage. You are a true friend among them.”

“Oh?” Wren said, her ears pricking up. Draal flustered a bit, looking around him to be sure no one listened in on the usually ferocious warrior admitting something so humbling.

“You have a good heart, Wren. You’ve always been there when life seems to kick me down a notch.”

Wren smirked. “A fan favorite then?”

“No! Listen, will you?” Draal said, more serious now. Wren still smiled, but nodded for him to continue. “When I mess something up, it...it shows. People expect me to never fail. And when I do….”

Draal went quiet, suddenly, as if uncertain of how to word what he felt. Wren stood up and laid a hand on his arm.

“I know the feeling.” Wren said. “Sort of. When I was little, people always expected me to fail. I was just the stupid runt, you know? But now that Papa’s taken me in, suddenly I have to act like I’m the perfect role model or something.” 

She sighed. “Life is hard for troll folk. I know more than anyone. But having friends like you makes it worth it.”

A funny feeling made Draal’s chest hitch when he heard that. “I...thank you, Wren. It is an honor for you to trust me as such.”

Wren went in for a hug and he pushed her away with an unamused look.

“Off with you, Cleaver! We have business to attend at the Forge.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll go; but _only_ because Papa is expecting me to further my war magic. Might as well see if it gives me any ideas.”

Draal did not fail to take in the smile that grew on her face, slowly becoming happier and less down. He showcased the new Forge weaponry to Wren’s delight, taught how they worked, and drew in close to her while helping her grasp a few of them. That funny feeling bloomed in his chest again, and he wasn’t quite ready to confront it yet.

So Draal was perfectly content to enjoy the day they shared otherwise. If Wren was smiling, so was he.

\----

Over time, as Wren grew even more and reached full adulthood, it was the Light Festival. Celebrating the Heartstone and their pilgrimage to it, young trolls took the time to show off their skills and feats, with numerous competitions of all kinds occurring at once. The most popular, of course, involved sparring.

Wren insisted on going to the fighting matches with Bagdwella, Glug, and their circle, and Vendel allowed it. It was an event for merrymaking, and would not keep her from having some well-earned fun. Considering she rarely attended formal fights, Vendel saw no reason to dissuade her further from attending. So he stood atop his balcony, announcing the fighters and winners without her at his side, when Draal the Destroyer came into the ring.

Even if he were not the Trollhunter’s son, the crowd would have gone wild. He had earned his own name over the centuries as a merciless warrior ever since the Battle of Killahead, and while it had not spurred the countless epics and sagas Kanjigar’s deeds had, it was enough to gain him popularity among the trolls of their city.

This particular battle was set with an outsider, come to visit for the festival. He was half Quagawump, his own rogue mother in the audience cheering wildly. Vendel grinned to himself, wondering if they came out of the woodworks now that Blungo had loosened his marriage laws.

It was certainly a tough match: the two constantly butted heads and took turns throwing one another around. The tide turned in Draal’s favor, however, when he took notice of Wren at the bottom row of seats higher up, having a literal front seat to the match. She was half-covering her face in fear and had given a loud cry of shock as he was hurt. Immediately he wrangled himself out of the headlock he was pressed into, and flipped his opponent over his shoulder. The following attacks were relentless until the competitor yielded to Draal in defeat. The two shared a friendly headbutt before dismissing themselves for the upcoming matches.

Vendel initially tossed aside the idea that Draal had fought for Wren, specifically. After all, she was accompanied by her gaggle of friends, all of whom unmarried or not courting. The Light Festival was a time for trolls to show off and make new connections, including more romantic ones. It would be unsurprising if the un-paired Draal felt the need to impress women of all kinds. He congratulated him officially after he won the match, and left the matter at that.

But then, he watched him closely at the musical treks in the heart of Trollmarket, and realized that it _was_ Wren after all.

Wren had been decorated in little crystals, as had Rika, and they both danced, sang, and played music to their growing audience. Just at the edge stood Draal himself, his face and body stiff and still, but his yellow-orange eyes never breaking from Wren. His arms were crossed, and he kept close at all times as any guard would. 

It was not as if he never saw the young maiden dance before -- she had learned much from Rika, who found herself returning to her old hobbies after Lora’s death. The two often frequented to the town square when bards and musicians came for a visit. Even before then, Lora and Wren both adored to prance around to the beat as little whelps, much to the amusement of the older trolls who playfully cheered them on. So Draal stood there, keeping watch, and hardly moved a muscle.

The tough exterior vanished, though, and Draal saw something new that caught him off-guard. A glint of something primal shone in those eyes, his face faltering just a little bit, when Wren’s hair accidentally fell out of its usual plait, and she laughed it off in a delightful twirl. Her wavy, black-as-night hair was tossed about as she continued, and Draal never did recover.

Vendel smirked, having seen enough young trolls in his day to know what that meant: and he approved the match heartily. Draal was a trusted friend, a proven warrior, and thus was someone who would keep Wren safe -- growing older by the day, Vendel did not want to let this opportunity pass by, before he too would pass and leave Wren as his only kin.

As soon as the festival disbanded a few days later, Vendel got to work. Kanjigar was surprised by Vendel’s visit to his cave, and even more so for the reason for it.

“Draal and Wren?” he pondered, pouring the two of them something to drink. His armor was off, and had clearly been having a rare moment of relaxation. A novel was left open on the table. “I am not against the idea of Wren as a daughter-in-law, of course; she has grown into a rather refined troll dame. But are you sure there is something there for them?”

“Certain of it.” Vendel said with a grin. “Watch your son for yourself, if you doubt it.”

Being the Trollhunter, he had quite the experience in sneaking around undetected. It was even easier to do without the clanking metal of his armor to set off where he stood. Kanjigar followed his son around the next day, knowing that Draal would wait for Wren to leave from Blinky’s library after finishing some research.

Draal caught her on the way out, and immediately Kanjigar noticed that his demeanor changed at the sight of her. He straightened to his full height, and began to chat her up as he escorted her elsewhere. Wren herself was friendly enough to engage, clearly happy to be with him and losing her sour countenance upon exiting the library. She laughed at something he said, and he smiled at the sound of it, scratching the back of his head nervously. Kanjigar suppressed a laugh of his own and returned to his cave to prepare the talk with his son.

When confronted with his interest in Wren, Draal did not deny it, though he shuffled in his place sheepishly during the conversation. After all, Draal knew that she was quite younger than him despite still being relatively young himself, and for the longest time he only ever considered her one of his more unusual friends -- even watching out for her on Vendel’s request. The bizarre change in feelings towards someone he was charged to watch over was not treated lightly.

Plus, he never got to speak with his father often, so that alone made him nervous. Add in talk of women, and it made it worse. It was true though: Draal found himself drawn to Wren more and more. At the festival, he realized during the heat of battle that he felt something for her beyond that of a friendship. Perhaps his fall out with Normura made him hesitant to recognize those feelings beforehand, but once they were out in the open: he couldn’t do much else but run with it.

“If I were to have her, I would.” he admitted after some time, almost relieved that he could let that out in the open. “But Vendel has not said anything of her being available. He’s been extremely protective of her, after all.”

Kanjigar smiled, patting his son’s shoulder. “Fortune is in your favor then, for Vendel has asked for you specifically to court her.”

The light in his eyes from that answer gave Kanjigar a sense of fatherly accomplishment he had not felt in a long time. Happiness in Draal was all he ever wanted, and after having had to distance himself for his son’s safety, he finally found something to keep Draal’s mind off of things and give him joy. Wren would be the perfect girl for that, he knew.

Wren herself knew nothing of these developments. Vendel, knowing their close friendship and her soft heart, assumed that she would gladly accept, and thus did not speak with her beforehand about the possible courting proposal. He figured her more of the romantic type to enjoy a surprise, anyway. So, both Vendel and Kanjigar shook hands on it, and gave Draal their blessing to prepare the courting proposal.

Oblivious to the new change in her life, Wren walked into the Heartstone chamber that next day with a basket of goods she planned to use for a new project. Her hair, while tied back in its trademark twin plaits, had some hairs whisping out from her long day of scavenging at the in-town furnaces. The apron over her skirt was also musty, and she had quite a few dark patches of coal dust over her shoulders and face from her adventures. Hopefully the diamonds she planned to artificially grow would look prettier, she thought with amusement.

Upon seeing Kanjigar, Draal, and Vendel in the workroom, she widened her eyes. Even Blinky and Argh were there, holding back wild grins. Wren then took notice of a few others, such as Bagdwella, who hung around further back. Was half the town shoved in for their individual requests for help?

Of course her family and friends would meet up at a time like this. Poor Vendel, he must have been busy without her! So she laughed, facing Kanjigar and Draal. “I apologize for turning up like a miner’s wife, but I thought I would be working alone! What do my warriors need today?”

“Only Draal is in need, I think.” Kanjigar said with a knowing smile and nudging his son forward. Wren, though still smiling as well, knotted her brows in confusion. Draal and Kanjigar rarely came together for anything, as the father always wished to work alone. So for his son to ask for help…well, Kanjigar would not be there, simply put. It was odd. Draal himself looked excited though also nervous. He looked at her fondly, in spite of her messy attire; if anything, seeing her so gave him more reason to look over her. By now Wren became a little more concerned.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” she asked, setting her basket of coal down onto a table. Suddenly, she realized all eyes were on her. A funny feeling began to grow in her belly as Draal continued to walk forward with the same fondness growing. A voice told her it was bad news yet she couldn’t bring herself to move.

Carefully, he revealed something in his fist, and handed it over to her. Looking down, Wren gasped in both awe and shock, and covered her mouth: it was a silvery moonstone, with blue and pink hues. Smooth, round, and wrapped in golden wire, it was both beautiful and tragic.

It was a courting stone.

“It would be an honor, Wren.” was all Draal managed to get out. Still processing what happened, Wren didn’t quite believe it was happening. The stone was handed over to her in a symbol of acceptance, his hands covering hers, as the others in the room began to loudly celebrate. Blinky laughed madly as he opened an ancient bottle of old fashioned grog, the cork popping into the crystalline ceiling, and Kanjigar and Vendel received boisterous congratulations from the normally subtle Argh. Bagdwella was crying already, declaring how lovely and perfect the moment was.

Wrapping a massive hand around her waist, Draal guided her to the crowd to start the celebration. She held the moonstone to her chest, silent and uncertain of it all. A nuzzle to her cheek from her now husband-to-be brought Wren back to reality.

“You…you want to court me?” she finally blathered out. The others were busy with their little feast and celebration, so it was just the two of them talking.

“Of course I do.” Draal declared with a wide smile. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Wren fumbled in her mind for an excuse, not knowing that she did not need one to say no. After all, she was an available maiden, she was slowly becoming an expert at her trade, and she and Draal were on very good terms, as were their respective families. In fact, she recalled with a flush to her face, Wren had found Draal rather fetching during the festival, to the point where her friends noticed and teased her for it. It didn’t help matters when they encouraged her to dress up for the music and dancing afterwards, knowing that it would draw attention to her. 

Looking back, Wren wondered if that were such a smart idea. At the time, yes: she felt like it would get Draal’s attention, and in a good way. She liked him, and enjoyed the time they spent together. Why not take the next step beyond friendship?

But this wasn’t some silly crush anymore: it was practically a betrothal. What she planned to be a next step turned into a leap across a chasm, and she had no idea where the landing was.

“Cheers for the happy couple!” Bagdwella shouted, shoving up a wooden cup of grog. The others cheered and took a drink. Draal brought Wren to his side more closely, looking over the sight.

“All for us, Wren. Can you imagine our future?” he said with prideful glee. Wren said nothing, as Blinky walked by to give his blessings. She had imagined a future alright, but nothing like this, at least not so soon.

The rest of the party was a blur to her, and that day when she went home to rest, Wren almost swore to herself that it had only been a dream.

Draal had become much more openly affectionate around her after that; at least, when they were alone. When walking about the market or meeting with others, Draal kept his normally stoic poise, allowing Wren to do whatever business she needed to handle and guarding her from possible threats. But whenever they had a private moment, he greeted her with nuzzles and a pet name. What was once a background presence was now her literal shadow.

Knowing proper protocol, Wren would go along with it, and even attended more of his training sessions to give moral support. He enjoyed that more than he would admit.

Wren _did_ care for Draal. His attention gave her a warm glow that she enjoyed, and whatever smiles she gave him were genuine because of it. But it was…so much, so fast. They went from childhood friends to betrothed in just under a day. It was as if she thought she were going for a pleasant walk, only to find that she had entered a Marathon, even as time went on and days stretched into moons.

She was working in her nest one day, when Draal popped into her cave unannounced and plopped down next to her. As per their usual pattern, he laid on his stomach, head propped on her lap. Wren found it half-enduring, half-annoying, as she was trying to read an old list of minerals to cross reference her own findings.

“Long day, my warrior?” she asked gently, mindful of her tone. The book was sat down as she turned her attention to scratching the base of his horns. Draal purred and relaxed into her form as she leaned against the wall.

“Any day is long without you, my sweet.” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Not to mention, it’s been too quiet around here, nothing for me to do. Makes me wonder when trouble will brew again.”

“Should I cause some trouble for you? Though that would give Papa a fit, now that I think about it.” Wren joked lightly, playing with his nose ring. “Perhaps it’s best if you keep me here?”

Draal gave a deep rumble, nuzzling up her stomach and chest to reach her neck, breathing warm air onto her stone skin along the way. Wren was surprised to find herself shivering in delight at the sensation, and gripped onto his shoulders to keep herself steady. He smirked into her at the sound of her gasp.

“Don’t tempt me.” he teased into her ear with a thick voice. Before Wren could respond in any way, there was a loud banging at the entrance of her cave.

“Draal the Destroyer! You will be the one destroyed in there if I find you meddling with that girl before your time!” came Bagdwella’s voice. Draal jumped up and brushed himself off, having been caught again by the ever watchful dame.

“I’m fine, Bagdwella.” Wren laughed, walking to the front and inviting her in. “Draal and I were just talking.”

“Talking in a _nest_ , I see.” she said with a disapproving frown. “Draal, if I catch you in here again–!”

“Uh, no worry, just leaving now.” he quickly answered. Draal went out after Bagdwella, and gave Wren a playful wink before leaving as well.

Wren’s smile left as soon as the door closed behind them. A sudden grip of sadness fell upon her, and she took out the courting stone she got that fateful day. It sat faithfully in her pocket, but she rarely looked at it. Now she held it and turned it about in her hands.

It was well-crafted, especially considering Draal himself made it. It was rare to see a gem cut in a way to show its beauty, rather than to gain its power, so Wren regretfully found it fascinating. For someone as simple-minded as Draal, he certainly put thought into the stone and how to present it for a gem cleaver. 

Well, except for the whole “talk to Wren about it first” bit. She still felt bitterness over that little fact. But what could she do now? To reject his courting after so long would shame him, and be a challenge to his honor. Wren was not one to pick fights she knew she could not win.

Besides, Draal wasn’t such a bad catch anyway…right?

—-

Wren, now courting a warrior as the Elder’s daughter, could no longer turn down invitations to the formal fights and matches that occurred in the Hero’s Forge. She would see first hand Draal’s ruthless nature, a nature she tried to disconnect herself from the rest of trollkind, and would find herself questioning her decision to stick with the courting.

Gem cleaving kept her nose in grindstones, local caves, and the occasional reference book, so Wren more or less did not have much of a mind wrapped around who fought or killed who in combat. She was worse about recalling those things than even Blinky, who, despite his bookish nature, was trainer to the Trollhunter and rather fond of violent histories.

Draal himself loved to boast about his deeds to his future bride, but he highlighted more on the fact that he won, rather than how he won. So, the girl was left blissfully and purposely unaware of what he had done to earn his title of “The Deadly” and “The Destroyer”.

It all started when Wren was out and about in the marketplace. It was one of those rare moments where Draal was not accompianing her, so Wren took advantage of the alone time to do something more light-hearted. She was looking for something to make a new dress with, as her current one was wearing out from all her cave scavenging. She and Bagdwella giggled over the latest gossip of her love life at the older troll woman’s stall.

“But hopefully it goes somewhere.” Bagdwella said with sigh. “Can you imagine? One of Gatto’s own guards…”

“It sounds like he suits you.” Wren half-teased. She then placed her basket on the counter of the front window, leaning in. “Speaking of which, I need something that suits me as well. Nothing fancy, but–”

“I could suit you just fine, fair maiden.”

Wren blinked, and turned to face who spoke to her so boldly. He looked to be a traveling warrior: his sword and shield were on his back, his belt holding various pockets for his items. He had ashen feet that resembled thick tree trunks, a slender though sturdy build, and his face was elongated. His horns curled around each side of his head like those of a ram, and bore multiple piercings on his face and ears. Despite the drab greys and pale yellows, he held himself up quite brightly. The roots that grew around his back also added a charming touch. 

Too bad he was barking up the wrong tree.

“Uh, well, that’s not necessary. Thank you.” Wren answered awkwardly. Never in her life did any troll go beyond flirting with her, thanks to Draal (though she did not know that particular detail). He made it clear to others that she was off-limits. For Wren, she thought only Draal ever saw an interest in her, and that the other male trolls only joked about finding her interesting.

Well, newcomers to Trollmarket were just as unaware of Draal’s rules as she was, and thus she found herself with an overly-interested troll warrior and having no idea how to handle it.

“What? Are you married off already?” he laughed. “Nothing’s stopping me from staking a claim on you.”

“Nothing but me, you mean.”

Wren turned again, this time facing Draal himself, returning from whatever duty he had disappeared off to before. He growled, and roughly pushed Wren behind him to face the threat. Bagdwella covered her mouth from behind her counter and watched with a growing thrill at the challenge about to be set forth, in front of her own shop no less.

“So all I have to do is beat you, and win her hand?” the warrior smirked without any sense of hesitation. “Name the place and time, blue boy. I’m ready.”

“The Hero’s Forge. Now.” Draal snarled. The two seperated, and immediately the crowd around them began murmuring about who would win, and what it would mean for Wren.

“Wait, hold on. What just happened?” Wren jolted. It had all started so suddenly and ended just as quickly, it took a moment for her to digest what exactly transpired.

Bagdwella practically swooned at what she saw as a romantic scene.

“Someone challenged your hand away from Draal! Oh, you’re so lucky to have TWO warriors fighting over you!”

“Fighting?!” she yelped. Her shopping venture forgotten, Wren rushed off to the Forge to see what she could do to stop such nonsense. Really! Was it so necessary?

According to Vendel, whom she met there, it was.

“Of course Frek has a legitimate claim on you.” Vendel explained, though looking sour about it, eyeing her carefully. “He is son of another Elder, from the east. I knew both his parents in my youth as good troll folk. He’s a renowned warrior from what I know, so I wouldn’t be against it, per se.”

“But what if Draal loses? This is ridiculous!” Wren spat. “I’m not…some trophy to be won! I’m not getting courted by some pompous idiot I hardly know!” _I didn’t even want to be courted by the first one,_ she thought to herself.

“Then pray that your favored warrior does not lose the match, Wren.” Vendel said sternly. “All you can do is watch and await the result. Speaking of which, you will be sitting with me in the high box, for once. It would be insulting if you didn’t.”

“It would be insulting for me to be won like prize cat meat!” Wren growled, though she followed him regardless. They reached their high box, where they sat in the highest seats in the arena surrounding the Forge. Crowds were spilling in already; gossip and news spread fast in Trollmarket, so she was not surprised. A few of the guards also came in with them, the head of guard taking Vendel’s left side.

“I know you don’t like this.” Vendel spoke quietly to her. “But it is time you grew to better understand and even accept our traditions. Merlin knows why you never enjoyed acting like a troll to begin with. I don’t doubt that Draal will be victorious, but I do doubt your ability to handle the situation with grace.”

Ah, so _that_ was why Vendel was so crankerous. Not because of the nonsense surrounding the quarreling warriors, but because of _her hesitance about it._ Wren’s bitterness grew tenfold.

Where was that idiot anyway? Wren looked down at the Forge floor, and saw no one yet. More than likely he was in one of the side entrances; she did not see Kanjigar in the crowd, so she could only assume that he was with Draal, helping him prepare. Blinky and Argh were visible, at least. Blinky was fussing about nervously, clearly not favoring Frek; Argh sat still next to him, ears flicking with great interest at the coming fight. 

The arena was now filled with an exuberant crowd, stamping their feet and yelling for a fight. A guard came in, whispering something in Vendel’s ear before disappearing to the stairwell outside.

“They are ready.” was all he said to his daughter. Vendel stepped forward into the open, where his presence caused another uproar. He held his arms outwards, one holding his staff.

“Gathered trollkind! You are about to witness a battle for the hand of my kin, our own Wren the Cleaver!” he bellowed out to the large audience. “May the ensuing battle bring forth honor and glory to the victor and his bride!”

The trolls went nuts. With the rumors they heard proven true, they eagerly called for the battle to begin, foot stomping and all. Wren stood forward at that moment as well, when being addressed as the bride, and looked around at the crowds. Nervous, sheepish, and angry, she entwined an arm with Vendel’s free one to steady herself. Only he could see and feel her shaking.

“First, we have Draal, son of Kanjigar, son of Tarigar! Draal the Destroyer, come forth!” Vendel continued, the hand wielding his staff gesturing towards the side entrance. Draal spun out in a ball, eventually jumping up and landing on his feet in a cloud of dust. His hands were curled in fists, pumped up in the air as the whole of Trollmarket cheered for their favorite warrior. He did not look up to see either Vendel nor Wren.

“Challenging him today, is Frek, son of Kref, son of Lutor! Enter, Frek the Slayer!”

 _A Destroyer and a Slayer, how drole,_ Wren droned in her mind as Frek enticed the crowd with the brandishing of his shield. Perhaps they would do her the favor of doing one another in. She huffed, reprimanding herself for thinking such a terrible thing, though her mood did not lighten one bit.

The crowd was a mix of cheers and boos with Frek’s introduction, but otherwise were still excited for the match to begin. Wren frowned, realizing that some folk were making bets on who would win, including the details of how and when. Her marital future on the line, and people were treating this like a typical sparring match. She did not have much time to think that over, however.

“Let the match begin!” Vendel proclaimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon Notes, per the usual
> 
> The Role of Elder -- I recall hearing from someone that Vendel inherited the role of Elder from his father, Rundle, who in turn inherited it from his father, Kilfred. Of course, in the show, when Vendel dies and the role is passed to Blinky, it shows that Elder doesn't necessarily have to be inherited. I would go so far as to say that normally a kinsmen is chosen for the role, as Blinky regarded Vendel as a brother and Vendel likely saw him as family as well, thus Blinky stepping in was well accepted. Wren is exposed to Vendel's work to learn how to lead but isn't really being pushed to become a future Elder; more than likely Vendel is still somewhat grooming Blinky for the role in the background. 
> 
> Troll Aging -- So the oldest troll on record is well past 5000 years. And since most of the trolls in the TH Wiki page are said to be "thousands of years old" (including Draal!) I came up with this. Troll whelps age quickly through childhood, which lasts from birth until 260-ish years. the Teen years are from 220-260ish years. By 270, they are a the "age of consent" (more on that next), but do not become full fledged adults until 280-290 at a minimum. Once they reach 300 or so, they begin to age much MUCH more slowly. from 300-2000 or so years they are considered younger adults, and start their middle age at 2500. The life expectancy is about 4000 years. Some reach 4500, but rarely get to 5000.
> 
> Age of Consent -- for trolls this is around their equivalent of 17/18, in reference to courting (not sex or marriage). Teens can court but do not marry until they are adults, the minimum age being roughly 19-21. Mind that this isn't necessarily the norm, just their minimum age (though marrying young is not unheard of). There is a lot of emphasis on youth learning their trade and contributing to their community, so marriage isn't always at the forefront. Not discouraged, just not number one on the list.
> 
> Light Festival -- just some holiday for trolls that I made up; I have no idea if there are other feasts/celebrations that would be considered canon. I imagine they don't celebrate it EVERY year. Maybe once a decade or something? Since they live so long. Also SURPRISE Wren can dance too I guess. This was a part of her character since I created her, but for some reason it never came up until this point in the story??? It sorta shows up in flashbacks in the future but otherwise it seems so forced here lmao.
> 
> Courting -- For higher classes of trolls, such as renowned warriors and leaders, courting is a lot more formal and normally implicates that the trolls involved will one day marry. Among other trolls, courting is still a serious affair but more relaxed in that you may court two or more people before you end up marrying for good. To deny a courting proposal that is well-accepted by others in your community is seen as dumb to do but not necessarily "illegal". Teens younger than the Age of Consent can not court, but it's not unheard of for them to show preferences if they know someone they like. (Side note -- another reason why Draal's affair with Nomura was a big no-no was because he was a warrior not officially courted to the woman he was seeing)
> 
> Challenging a courtship -- Normally this doesn't happen, accept among more warrior-like groups and the higher classes. You can only battle someone for their intended spouse if you have a "right" to court the person otherwise (as with Frek and Wren both being kin to Elders). Since staking a "claim" on someone with a specific honorable line or relation to authority is a bigger deal socially than someone who runs a cat meat shop, people of "commoner status" tend to just work out the issue peacefully between family members. 
> 
> Polygamy -- You got ALL these ladies, and only ONE dude, with the warrior women being unsure about the idea of a queen at first (even when their only king died, no less). I definitely went to the "head male bull hogging all the women with sneaky males seducing a few when he isn't looking" train lol. 
> 
> Names for women -- maidens are young, never-been-married troll women; dames are women of any age who are able to marry, regardless of whether they were married before; matrons are women of any relationship status who are community influences of sort, or hold important positions other than Elder. Bagdwella was always such a huge presence and held sway over any crowd, so I figured she was popular, and thus dubbed her a matron. I never really came up with terms for men, since this fic is mostly from the POV of a lady oops


	4. All's Fair Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle begins between Frek and Draal, the entire ordeal challenging Wren's view on not just her future marriage but also about herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first major fight scene in the fic and I hope y'all enjoy it! I'm not the best at them but they are always a fun challenge.

Vendel’s shout to start the match broke Wren from her silent fury. She jumped a little at how fast both the warriors lunged into the battle. Draal did his usual rolling attack, though it was parried by Frek’s shield. It created a shower of sparks that impressed even Wren. She would have appreciated the sight better had the circumstances been different.

That shield must have been made of a magical metal, for it hardly looked tarnished by the time Frek dislodged from the attack by jumping over Draal. He took out his sword, swiping and parrying his unarmed opponent.

Wren knew Draal did not have much need for weapons, despite favoring the axe; his mother’s kin gave him the flesh-deep armor of the crystals that formed all over his back and within his body. This also added to his brute strength, especially those in his infamous fists. He could grab a sharp weapon at the right angle and handle it like it was his own, if not outright punch his target in the process. Draal did just that, lunging for and successfully grabbing the blade.

But this Frek fellow was proving to be a real challenge. He sliced downwards on Draal’s palm when he grabbed his curved saber, knowing too well that he was attempting to force him to either let go of the weapon or be flung about. Draal roared in pain but did not stop charging. In a ball again, he lunged forward and rolled over to crush Frek. 

Wren’s eyes widened in horror as the battle grew more vicious, more bloody. Stabbing, skin-curling punches that crunched loudly, wounds opening -- she would have fainted if not for Vendel’s arm beside her. This was _nothing_ like the training and friendly sparring matches she grew up watching him in. She could not recall Draal recanting his tales of battle with this much cruelty involved.

A loud horn blared, showcasing the start of the Scalding Hour. Vendel did not say anything as Wren rushed out, going down to find Draal in the Arena.

He sat in the side entrance he came through, on a stool, while Blinky handled a searing hot poker. Draal groaned and winced a little as the historian pressed it carefully but firmly against a large gash on his chest. Argh tended to the slit on his palm from the start of the fight. Kanjigar was also there, dipping some magical ointment onto strips of cloth. 

Wren rushed forward, taking in the damage. “Draal…”

“Ah, here comes the bride!” Blinky said with hearty gusto, drawing away the poker and using a fire gem of imperial topaz -- one she crafted herself, now that she looked at it -- to heat it up again. Wren bulked inwardly from the smell of scalded stone-flesh.

“I’d like to speak with Draal.” she said flatly.

“Right here, Wren.” he said with a pained grunt. “Don’t mind me, it shouldn’t take long.”

He hissed suddenly as Kanjigar wrapped up the area Blinky had seared, the ointment stinging him a bit. 

“Don’t you worry, we’ve got him covered.” Kanjigar said with confidence. “Though Frek is proving more difficult to beat than we thought.”

“We’ll need a change of plan, then.” Blinky said as he stuck the poker onto a wound on Draal’s arm. He grunted again, one eye squinting, from the sudden contact. Wren blanched and wondered how he managed it. Then again, Draal was well-used to this sort of treatment, wasn’t he?

 _And used to committing murder, too,_ said a voice in her head. After all, these matches could only end in death, something Wren was desperately trying to forget. Blinky continued, forgetting her request to be alone with Draal. 

“Frek is known as the Slayer, and for good reason. He’s a stealthy fighter, more assassin than warrior.” he emphasized with one hand. “That much is clear from his more nimble attacks.”

“A coward then.” Draal said, spitting the ground. Kanjigar shook his head, now finished with his chest and taking a step back.

“Don’t underestimate him, son. That’s how you will lose the match, and your life.”

“And lose Wren.” Argh put in. He gave the injured hand a sniff before feeling satisfied with his handiwork and placing it on Draal’s lap. He walked over to Blinky’s side.

“Which means you need to think about your next move!” Blinky asserted. He removed the poker again, setting it aside to focus on bandaging the arm. “I studied his movements carefully as you both fought. By now he no doubt assumes your next move, your typical attacks. You need to surprise him, catch him off guard.”

Draal blinked. “But I did everything I knew out there!”

“No, you did everything you are _comfortable with._ ” Kanjigar corrected, standing next to him on the spot that Argh vacated. “And when you are comfortable, your enemy is comfortable, because it makes _you_ predictable.”

“Indeed.” Blinky said in a somber tone. “So, Draal, what are you not doing that you should, because you are not pushing yourself to it?”

Wren watched Draal think for a moment, before looking up and catching Wren’s eye. She held her breath, wondering what was going on in his head. He was never much of a “stand still” thinker, preferring to make decisions through on-the-go movement, and it showed now with the growing confusion on his face. Was that embarrassment in his orange-yellow eyes, as he pondered over his wife-to-be?

“Perhaps,” Wren spoke up against her better judgement, her bright gold eyes never leaving Draal’s, “You should use more of the environment to your advantage. You know the Forge, but Frek does not. And you have been so focused on bashing him yourself, that you don’t let the Forge do it for you.”

Blinky’s eyes furrowed, and then went, “Oh!” as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Argh nodded in agreement.

“Make sense. Forge has own mind. Very useful.”

“It wouldn’t make things worse at least.” Kanjigar put in with a pat to his son’s shoulder. Draal, still looking at Wren, took in a deep breath and grew more determined. 

“Then the Forge will fight for me, Fates willing.” he affirmed. Blinky clasped all four hands together with his own determination etched on his face.

“So it’s settled! Argh, Master Kanjigar, help me with these things, will you? It’s cumbersome even with all four of my arms.”

Argh and Kanjigar went to set away their medical tools with Blinky, leaving Draal and Wren with some semi-privacy at last. Wren walked forward carefully, and found that she stood just above his head while he sat hunched over. 

She laid a hand carefully over the bandages on his chest. The smell and hum of the magic imbued was loud on her dull senses. Purring, Draal took in her scent as he leaned against Wren’s chest. His nose ring clanked lightly against her.

“Draal…”

“Don’t fear for me, my sweet. I’ll walk away victorious, no matter what that so-called ‘Slayer’ does to me.” he promised her, laying his bandaged hand over hers with tenderness. “No one will _ever_ take you away.”

Something about the combination of those words and his display of affection set her off. Wren scoffed and took her hand away the moment he touched her. The frustration that built up inside her since the nonsense began started to bubble out.

“I don’t want you to fight!” she insisted. “No one should have to kill people over something like this! For goodness sake, couldn’t we have just kicked him out of Trollmarket for bad behavior or something?”

Draal frowned at the sudden outburst. “And risk shaming his family and starting a war over it? Unlikely. Vendel would have my head on a pike if I allowed that to happen.”

“But killing him here won’t do that?!” Wren shot back. “I don’t want anyone to die!”

“To die with honor, especially in the Hero’s Forge, is befitting of _any_ warrior, something I don’t expect someone like _you_ to understand.” Draal told her sternly, a finger prodding her shoulder. He softened when he noticed the hurt in Wren’s face. “My sweet, I didn’t mean --”

“I know everyone thinks I don’t act or live like a ‘proper troll.’” she said, stepping back from his attempt to comfort her. “But maybe that’s a good thing. Ever think about that? That maybe all this...this _bushigal_ you put yourselves through, isn’t worth it?!”

By now the others heard them arguing, but said nothing, standing back as they let them have their moment. Wren hardly cared, and Draal wouldn’t have either had he been able to see them. The warrior, almost finished healing, now stood up and frowned down at his “bride”. 

“You were always worth risking death for. Every day I put my life on the line for your own.” he confessed with a strained tone. “I _apologize_ , if that is not _worthy_ enough for you.”

He turned his back on her to go to his father, and resume their talk on improving his tactics. Blinky, wishing to help after what he saw, strode forward and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. 

“Wren, if I may?” Blinky asked. She nodded, knowing he would speak his mind to her anyway.

“You have a soft heart, Wren.” Blinky said quietly. “That is not something I say with disdain, but appreciation. You know I have always admired you for it. Draal may not _understand_ your heart, just as the others do not understand, but do not mistake his misunderstanding for contempt. In fact, I would argue that he treasures your kindness and tenderness, as he does not have much of either in his life. No troll does, really. That is why it is so good for you to have that, to give it to him. Draal is simply fighting for your heart the only way he knows how, the way he is best at. Let Draal be Draal, just as he has let you be Wren.”

Wren looked at him, touched by the explanation, though still frazzled at the whole charade as well as Draal’s harsh words from before. Argh was there now too, smiling.

“Draal is Draal. Fights for what he loves. And Draal loves you.” he put more bluntly. Wren sighed now, turning away. Hearing those exact words -- “Draal loves you” -- was a bit too much for her at the moment. For a troll that rarely spoke so eloquently, his straightforwardness could say more than even Blinky could.

“Thanks, I suppose. I...I should be getting back to Papa.” Wren lamely excused.

“Then I shall not delay you further. Wish us luck, eh?” Blinky called after her before returning to Draal’s attention. Wren looked a bit behind her shoulder, watching as Draal consulted the help and support of not only his father (a form of attention he rarely received these days, so no doubt he was relishing in it), but also of his friends, who were even more experienced than he in the art of fighting and honor. He was blessed to have them at his side; in that way, she was genuinely happy for him, despite everything.

It suddenly occurred to Wren that Frek was alone on that venture. Looking at the other side of the arena, to the other side entrance, she saw the Slayer sitting all alone on his own stool, tending to his wounds crudely. An empty bottle of ointment lay beside his feet. He must have sensed her watching, for he brought his head up, and smiled at her when he realized who it was. 

Wren’s heart leapt at the sight. It wasn’t anything like the obnoxious smirk in the market she originally saw. Frek’s smile now was one full of hope, affection, and genuine longing. It occurred to her that Frek the Slayer was a real live troll, with his own personality, hopes, and accomplishments, and was doing what he thought was best. 

 

Frek was willing to risk his life, to die alone, for _her:_ someone he barely met that day.

No, Wren had no intention to court or be courted by Frek. But she _did_ want him to leave the arena alive, to leave Trollmarket and find another fair maiden to fight for, one who would actually love him the way Draal loved her.

Ugh, she was _never_ going to be used to that fact. Still, it was what it was, and Wren could not control that. All she could do now was hope that, by some miracle, both Frek and Draal would make it out alive, their honor be damned.

When she returned to Vendel in the high box, he barely took note of her return other than handing her something to drink. He grunted when Wren made a greeting.

“Papa, what would happen if Draal won somehow, and spared Frek’s life?” she asked after she sipped her drink. Vendel gave a loud “ha!” and turned to look at her.

“Frek would not only be unable to show his face in Trollmarket again, but he would likely be banished from his own tribe too. Draal’s fate would be no better should his fortune be reversed.”

“I see.” Wren muttered. Soon the horn from earlier blared again, announcing the end of the Scalding Hour. As Vendel made the announcement for the match to continue, she took a step back out of view and chugged her whole cup of grog. This was going to be a ride for sure.

Just as Draal and Frek returned to their fighting, Wren saw Blinky and Argh rush into their old seats. If she thought they were nervous before, then they were on-edge paranoid now. Both sets of ears laid back into their heads of hair, eyes wide and unblinking as they deftly followed the warriors movements. Wren couldn’t say anything less about herself, gripping onto the high box’s ledge so tight that it left a few marks.

True to her suggestion, Draal eventually allowed the Forge to do some of the work for him. Scythes and moving floors came to life, and he used it this time around. He rolled around the transforming plates, forcing Frek to chase, leap, and climb after him. Eventually, it reached a point where Draal was two steps ahead of him, and used that opportunity to lunge himself at Frek from behind. 

Wren yelped out-loud as they landed far, far below them, Draal positioning himself with a hand on Frek’s head and the opposite knee on his back. The floor cracked a little beneath him, and for a heart stopping moment she thought that the fall itself killed the outlander. Perhaps had he been any weaker, he would have.

It did not, of course. Though feeble and gravely injured, Frek managed to hold his head up slightly as Draal kept his hand and knee in place, practically entrapping him. His shield, still gleaming and unscathed, landed well beyond either of their reach. He tried to grab the saber next to him, but Draal roared and crushed the offending hand with his a free fist. Wren shivered at the sound of the crunch and Frek’s yowl of pain. 

The crowd around them chanted, “Finish the fight! Finish the fight!” with a few “Kill him!” resounding over it. Vendel gripped onto Wren’s arm as she was nearly dangling herself over the ledge, unable to tear herself away from the terrible scene unfolding.

Grabbing the saber, Draal made a move as if to make the killing blow with Frek’s own familiar weapon. Wren hitched her breath. Was she really going to watch this? Watch her own husband-to-be and trusted friend kill a fellow troll over a stupid moment of one-sided, misguided flirting?

Draal hesitated as he drew the saber upwards, and looked up towards Wren. Though too far for either of them to see one another’s eyes, the connection was clear. He was looking to her for an answer to the cries of the crowd around them.

Wren’s eyes pooled with tears, forming a sob and turning away into Vendel’s chest. _No, she didn’t want him to do this,_ not now, not _ever._ But to ask him to show mercy would lead others to question his legitimacy as both a future spouse, and as a fearsome warrior. Wren did not want her friend to be a merciless killer; she also did not want to shame his reputation; she knew she could not choose both at once, and it overwhelmed her. It was too much after such a rapidly wild day, and she did not want to hold the fates of others in her hands.

For once, Vendel showed compassion at her obvious distress, and embraced her with sadness of his own. Arms wrapped around her, Wren buried herself as much as she could into her dear Papa’s fur, ears tucked tightly against her hair and head, hoping it was enough to bury the expected sound of metal slicing into dead, crumbling stone. 

Instead, she heard a clatter. 

Instead, she heard the growing boos of a malcontent mob.

She lifted her head, looking up at Vendel.

“Huh?” was all she mustered through her tear stained face. Vendel looked just as shocked as she did, and wordlessly turned her around to face the arena. 

Draal had thrown down the saber, and with his back turned towards the high box, strode to the side entrance where Kanjigar waited for him. Frek himself was in a spotlight now, struggling to stand up beyond his hands and knees. As the boos grew louder and more rowdy, random pieces of junk and other less savory items were thrown at him. One hit his already cracked head, causing him to fall down again. The round of laughter from that flared something within Wren.

In her mind’s eye, she was a child again: Wren the Runt. A runt that was often targeted by other children who would steal her already dwindling collection of toys, food scraps, or goods for sale. A runt that was easily beaten down and tossed about, who could barely fight back and had no one to stand up for her. Wren saw Frek the Slayer suffering shame at the hands of strangers, and she felt her own misery from the past, from the same folk who belittled him now

Recalling what Vendel told her earlier about Frek’s fate, Wren used that flare of anger to hurry out again. Vendel called out for her but she passed by all the guards with a swiftness she did not know she had. Going the opposite way this time, Wren came around to Frek’s side of the arena entrance, and rushed to his side. Frek was on his knees again, shivering from all the pain he was trying to work through.

He said nothing as Wren helped him up and walked him out of sight from the wild crowd. Though she focused only on the task at hand, she swore she felt disapproving eyes from at least one certain warrior as she took Frek out of sight. Whatever, Wren would deal with the naysayers later. Right now, she made a choice of her own for once, a choice to help someone the way she wished someone had helped her, and she was going to go through with it whether it damned her or not.

Making sure that no one would bother them, Wren got to work on Frek’s injuries. They were bad: really bad. Luckily he still had plenty of supplies in his own aid kit, and sat him against the wall as she got to work. He said nothing, focused only on breathing and contemplating his future. Wren found it hard to look into his eyes, knowing they would be empty and lost of their old spark.

The head injury was the hardest one to deal with. Draal the Destroyer, indeed! Wren cursed him lightly under her breath as she shifted the rocky skin plates around his eye socket and nose, placing a healing clay over them to keep them in place. The eye was a goner, but she could at least shape the socket and brow back to normal. A quick wrap finished the job and she moved onto his other less gruesome, though still serious, injuries. She braced his back as it was strained, and also gave a once over of his older wounds to make sure nothing re-opened. The broken hand was braced just as his back had been.

When Wren was satisfied with her work, she helped him up again, and took a side passage out of view from others, where they could sneak away to the gyre station at the edge of Trollmarket. Soon enough for a short troll woman and an injured warrior, they reached the archway leading to the gyre currently waiting for its next transport.

“You told him not to kill me, didn’t you?” Frek said weakly as they entered. Wren froze a little, as he had said nothing up to that point. “Draal the Deadly, the _Destroyer:_ he never passes up the chance to smite.” 

He hobbled his way up the stairs to the gyre. “Unless that moment, when he was about to do me in...he was looking to you to see if he should.”

“I mean, not exactly. But sort of.” Wren admitted. “I just...I didn’t want you to die over me. No one should.”

“You should have let me die. At least then I could take what little honor I had into death.” There was no venom or spite in his voice, merely a tired, worn acceptance. He paused a moment, before turning his head slightly to look at her. “You know, I am the youngest of thirteen sons in my family. By the time I grew into myself, there was nothing I could do that the others already did to bring honor to our clan. And with my people, they don’t like repeats. I thought perhaps, if I went out to make my fortune, did something different, I could…”

Wren walked up to him, placing a careful hand on his back as she helped him in the gyre. “You can still make your fortune, family or no family, for your own sake. Don’t let anyone else tell you who you are, or what you are meant to be.”

Frek didn’t respond as she sat him into the pilot’s seat, so she continued. “You’ll find your fair maiden someday. It’s not me, but you’ll catch her soon enough. Or maybe some other grand thing will come along that I don’t know about. I can tell that about you.”

“You can? Are you a seer now?” he said with a half grin in spite of himself. Wren smiled back. It was better than his moping, at least.

 

“I’ve worked with enough magic to know how life plays out. You have more power in your hands than you know.” she said, now stepping back onto the stairs to make her way down to the station floor. “And a pox on your father and brothers, if they don’t see that power in you.”

Frek laughed at that. “I’ll have to find that out, won’t I? You’re a funny maiden, Wren the Cleaver. Draal is lucky to have you. May I be lucky enough to find the solace that you possess.”

Wren said nothing to that. She certainly found no solace in _anything_ , though she would never tell him that just as he perked up. The pursuit in gem cleaving was never her decision even if she excelled at it, as the study behind it was humdrum and deathly boring; courting Draal was practically thrown upon her the moment she took her first baby step into womanhood; and now she stood watch as the only choice she ever made began to rev the engine to the gyre, setting his course far from Trollmarket. She may have helped spare his life, given him hope for the future in spite of troll law, but that evidence of rebellion would soon be gone from her life.

“Deya’s Grace be upon you!” Wren called out, just before he bowed his head to her and set off in an electrifying whirl. She let out a breath of relief; a feeling in her gut said that eventually, things would work in Frek’s favor. At least someone would find their handmade fortune then, if not herself.

The feeling of rightness would soon leave her, however. As soon as Wren turned to leave, she saw Draal standing tall at the archway, arms folded together across his bandaged chest. His face was furrowed in fury. No doubt he saw the whole exchange. She tossed a plait of hair behind her shoulder in defiance, and walked over to him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked in reference to his wounds, ignoring the scowl he made.

“You have some nerve approaching him the way you did.” Draal snarled, grabbing her arm as she tried to walk past him, and pulling her to look up. “Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You mean everything to me.” Wren said coolly, refusing to show any signs of weakness. “As does the concept of mercy. I wanted Frek to have a chance to live, and you helped me with that, because of the mercy _you showed._ I...I thank you, for accepting it, even if you did not like it.”

Draal’s grip on her softened, though his face did not. “Then do me a favor, as repayment: _never ask me to do that again._ ”

“I never asked you to do it, and you know that.” Wren said, looking away. She turned again to walk out, feeling his eyes burning her back the further she went. Draal did not stop her that time. 

Something shifted between them now, and Wren hoped it was not for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sharing headcanons about Frek and his tribe because it may spoil stuff for later! 
> 
> Figured that the Scalding Hour was more than just hot pokers (hence the ""magical ointments"" and such) and they seem to rarely use actual fire in the world of trolls (hence the use of a fire gem). 
> 
> But I do have one on Vendel's relationship with Draal. In the show, Vendel seemed to have the utmost confidence in Draal's abilities as an overall warrior, and was shocked to see him lose against Jim. To me, I feel like Draal is the perfect future son-in-law/warrior in his eyes, though he may not say it. Vendel knows he is good at what he does and has likely seen enough battles in his lifetime to assume so. 
> 
> I also wanted this battle to be something of the replacement for the battle against Jim in the show -- Draal learns more about humility/mercy here, though he doesn't get it yet. It mostly just opens a can of worms for his relationship.


	5. Diamond is a Troll's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the passage of time, Draal and Wren are at odds with one another. Kanjigar utilizes Wren's cleaving skills to not only help them make up, but to also confront Bular the Vicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanjigar is always so much fun to write. He's such an exasperated dad, lmao. Also warning for alcoholism/drunkenness

_Centuries ago_

Kanjigar, out of his armor for once, carefully watched Wren walk about in the main plaza. He stood to the edge, smoking a pipe. 

It wasn’t that he went out of his way to keep an eye on the girl; no one did, really. But whenever she was in sight, any full grown troll nearby would keep tabs on her until she left the vacanity. For the Trollhunter, it was no different. Orphan or not, Wren was a part of Trollmarket and he would do his duty however necessary.

A nice change of duty, too -- it was relaxing, fun even, to watch the toddling at work. Kanjigar chuckled out some smoke, watching as she failed to chase after a gnome; in some ways, it reminded him of Draal, all those centuries ago, before Ballustra passed.

He missed her. He missed the family he once held in great pride. Even more so, Kanjigar missed fighting alongside his son. It felt so long ago now, the Battle of Killahead Bridge, when he and a very young Draal sparred close together, and fought as a team. They did so in Ballustra’s memory, for the glory of trollkind, and above all: for one another.

A squeal took him out of Kanjigar’s somber thoughts. Wren was jumping up and down, trying to get at a stray pixie, it seemed. 

His eyes widened. _A pixie?!_

Just before he jumped up to get her away from the chaotic pest, Draal himself came to the rescue and stomped the thing to the ground.

“Ha! Vanquished forever! You little ball of madness!” he growled in satisfaction. Wren looked horrified and began to whimper, looking as if he had killed a friend. Draal looked beside himself at the reaction, unsure of how to handle the toddling in such a state. Normally he received praise, not tears, for his work.

“Uh, please don’t do that.” he tried to shush her as he bent down, but it only made it worse. Wren began to cry and grasp for the dusty remains of the pixie on the stone ground. By now Kanjigar walked to them, a bit puzzled and concerned that a troll, even at her age, would be so disturbed by the sight.

“Perhaps a father should step in?” Kanjigar noted, gently picking up Wren and consoling her at his shoulder. She buried her wet face into his neck. “What a strange child, mourning over something like a pixie.”

“You’d think she’s be thankful.” Draal said dryly. For someone who often complained of her silliness, he seemed to be offended at Wren’s lack of gratitude. Kanjigar chuckled.

“Oh, she’s young yet. Perhaps she’ll grow out of it. She may not know much of pixies, either. You saw how she tried to make friends with it. There there, little one.” Kanjigar said softly to her. Wren’s crying lowered to little sniffles. “That’s it, no more fuss. It was just a pixie. And Draal was trying to be helpful.”

“No! D’aal mean.” she tattled to him in a harsh, wet whisper, covering her mouth with her hand as if telling him a secret. Draal rolled his eyes.

“Draal was only protecting you, Wren. Pixies are bad and can hurt you.” He attempted to teach her.

“Not bad. Pretty.” Wren hiccuped. At least she no longer let out any more tears. Draal watched carefully as his father smiled, and continued to speak to the girl as if she were his own. He felt a hitch in his stomach, recalling his own young days as a fresh whelp and toddling, finding comfort in his parents’ embrace. 

“D’aal, say sorry.” Wren eventually said during their talk. She refused to look at him but pointed downwards to the tiny pile of dust that was the pixie’s remains. 

“What?” he said, bemused. Kanjigar gave him a look and he grunted. 

“Fine. I’m sorry. I was...mean.” Draal relented. “But pixies can hurt you. I’m sorry that I upset you, but that is all I will apologize for.”

Wren sat up a little in Kanjigar’s arms to look over Draal’s face. She understood most of what people said to her now, though she didn’t always fully comprehend it. Least of all could she comprehend the violent nature she saw in many of the trolls she interacted with.

“No more hit.” she said. “Don’t like it.”

“It was more of a stomp than a -- oof!” Draal groaned, his father stepping on his foot. 

“ _Draal._ ” Kanjigar said with a firm tone. 

“Fine! No more hit. I promise.” he said, annoyed. Wren smiled now, and bounced a bit from Kanjigar’s hold on her. 

“Good job, D’aal!” she said excitedly, earning a smirk Kanjigar and a snort from Draal. She was set down and off she went, bee-lining to whatever misadventure she would find next.

“Uh, thanks for helping. I’m no good with kids; outside of training, anyway.” Draal admitted, crossing his arms sheepishly. 

“It was no problem. We all pitch in for her. No shame in asking for a hand.” he then turned to walk away. “Stay safe, my son, and tell of this to Vendel. If there was one pixie, there may be more. I’ll check around the parameter and see if there’s a hive somewhere. He or Blinky may have something to get rid of it.”

Draal nodded, not quite looking as Kanjigar walked away and donned his Daylight armor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a little blur of pastel pink skin and raven hair. Looking towards it, he saw Wren staring at him with a quiet, thoughtful expression. When she noticed Draal caught her staring, she giggled and rushed away. He sighed and began his walk to find the Elder. 

He was never going to understand that kid.

\----

_Present Day_

Kanjigar approached Wren a few months after the battle in the Forge, Amulet in hand. For a troll of direct action, he found it difficult to gather the courage needed to meet with her; he hated going to others for help, knowing the danger of his work as a Trollhunter. With Wren especially he wished to keep her far away from it, knowing that her nature was not pliable -- at all -- with the brutality of war. Even if whatever fatherly affection he felt towards Wren was distant, the affection itself gave him pause as to whether he should approach her at all.

Things were changing though, which lead to him deciding that, yes, he needed Wren’s help now. Vendel had the skills to provide him with magical aid, but not the attitude or foresight to agree to such a thing. Wren, however, would have both. At least, Kanjigar hoped so: Bular was proving more suspect lately, with a sudden desire to obtain the Amulet that was not there before. All other leads on theories as to why fell flat, and found that he was running in circles, getting nowhere.

When a failed visit to the Void -- resting place of the souls of his predecessors -- provided no answers, Kanjigar decided then it was time to do something different. And when it came to “different”, Wren was definitely the one to seek. For all her defiance concerning things traditionally troll-like, she certainly had a knack for troll arcana and pushing its limits.

Wren worked at the grindstone within the Heartstone chamber, wearing her leather and brass goggles as Kanjigar approached her. She focused on refining the heart of what looked to be a broken turquoise stone. 

Funny, he was coming in for a stone just like that. 

“Wren the Cleaver, you fare well?”

The grindstone came to a halt, and with one hand pushing up her goggles, Wren turned towards him on her stool.

“You need magical services, my Trollhunter?” she asked kindly. Despite her spat with his son, she was not one to carry on a grudge over to others. He had been one of the few to not give her any grief for helping Frek out of town, so she truly had no reason to be upset with him. Kanjigar walked to her and held out the Amulet.

“Vendel carries many elemental gemstones that I can use in my Amulet for special abilities.” Kanjigar started. “But there is one that has yet to grant me wisdom.”

Wren’s brows shot up, bringing up the half of the turquoise heart she had been cutting. “Wisdom?”

“Well, the wisdom to make important decisions, if that helps refine what you need to do.” Kanjigar put vaguely. Wren humphed a little, knowing that he was up to something, and, as usual, not willing to divulge details to others. Still, she had no place to deny her future father-in-law, not when her current state with Draal was shaky at best.

“I can help, if you don’t mind something more unusual.” Wren said, now getting up with the turquoise heart. She walked to the table, where the other half of it sat polished and ready to use, and Kanjigar stood across from her on the other side. “When I first started learning under Papa, he told me that a stone’s heart was useless if broken, or shattered. Still, I kept this one over the years because it felt wrong to just throw it out.”

“Oh?” Kanjigar asked, wondering where she was going with it. Wren almost seemed to enjoy questioning or breaking rules where needed to find her answers. Funny how what he would consider foolish in her past was now something potentially useful for him now.

“Let’s just say that I’m glad I didn’t throw it out. There’s actually an interesting, if rare, practice concerning the splitting of two different gems, and combining one half with another type to form a new magical energy.” Wren continued. 

“What of it?” he asked, leaning against the table now as he watched her hold both stone hearts close together.

“Well...why not do that with the same stone?” Wren said with a smile, pushing together the turquoise hearts. Of course, instead of fusing magically, they merely clacked together. Kanjigar looked unimpressed.

“Now, hold on.” Wren said with a wave of her hand, “I didn’t finish yet! They can’t fuse together by _themselves_ , but with some help, they could.”

By now Kanjigar noticed some diamonds on the table, many of them sliced into thin, speck-sized sheets. He recalled that some time ago, Wren managed to make diamonds artificially, within a carefully-designed kiln. Vendel was quite boastful about it when the two fathers shared a rare round of drinks together at the pub. Were these diamonds from that attempt? Wren picked up one of the “slices” and placed one of the halves on the table. 

“Wild diamond can’t do this, since it’s energy is too chaotic, unpredictable. But with diamond I grew myself, I could control what kind of magic embodies its core. It has a binding energy, forming two things into a new cohesive whole.” Wren showed, gently placing the carefully crafted diamond piece onto one of the turquoise halves. It stuck to it like a magnet, humming.

“So you can fix your stone heart there. That’s...fascinating.” Kanjigar stood up straight now, crossing his arms. “But would it be useful for what I need?”

“Doubly so.” Wren smiled, but then faltered. “Or, I hope so anyway. The diamond should amplify the wisdom power of the turquoise, and be stable enough to use in your Amulet.”

“Hm,” was all he could say, now watching her take the other half. With the utmost care, Wren pushed the turquoise heart against the other side of the diamond fragment, and with a small flash of light and a pop, it all fused into one. She held out the newly crafted gemstone in her palm towards Kanjigar. 

“Ta-da!” she showed him eagerly. “Not as dramatic as I thought it would be, but it looks put together enough. Want to try it out?”

Kanjigar nodded, taking the gemstone and opening the Amulet up to place it there. But then he paused, wondering: how under the earth was he supposed to test the power of wisdom? All other gemstones held physical powers one could see and practice with: to make one stronger, faster, more aware of their surroundings. Those traits, at least, were observable and quantifiable.

But thinking better? That was new territory for everyone involved. He snapped the Amulet shut and held the gemstone in his other hand.

“Come with me, perhaps Blinkous could aid us.”

Kanjigar and Wren made it to the historian’s library, where he had been pulling a book out of Argh’s mouth.

“Really now, you could just as easily read it and digest new _knowledge _with your _mind,_ instead of its _pages with your stomach._ You can get yourself an actual snack in the market if you are truly as hungry as you claim!” Blinky chided his friend. Argh let go, but not without leaving his slobber all over the book. __

__“Haha! Sorry.” he grinned. Blinky began to wipe it down with a grumble when he noticed the others coming in._ _

__“Ah, welcome to my abode! And what pleasure brings you here?”_ _

__“Not pleasure, business.” Wren stated. “I have a new gemstone we want to test with Kanjigar’s Amulet, but we wanted your input.”_ _

__“A new gemstone, you say? Crafted it yourself?” Blinky asked, and that was when Kanjigar handed it over to him._ _

__“Oh, curious…” Blinky said under his breath, bringing the gemstone close to one of his six eyes. “Very curious. Turquoise and diamond...a fusion? That can be tricky to control, especially for use in an artifact like the Amulet of Daylight.”_ _

__“I personally watched her explain the process and create it in front of me. I trust her.” Kanjigar put in, almost sounding...proud? That was new for Wren. Then again, the whole interaction in general was new, as he rarely spoke with her or anyone, let alone ask for help. A small surge of pride grew in her chest._ _

__“Wren the Cleaver, a well earned title then!” Blinky said with chuckle. “I rarely see a fusion so well done with diamond. But why two halves of the same turquoise?”_ _

__“I wanted to amplify the wisdom in them. I didn’t want two different energies competing; only one being made more powerful.” Wren put simply. Argh sniffed the gemstone carefully in Blinky’s hand._ _

__“Hmmm, tricky magic.” he said, looking concerned. “Could cause trouble.”_ _

__“Which is why I am here, to have you help me test its abilities.” Kanjigar said. “It’s not something I can easily do in the Forge. I need something more intellectual.”_ _

__Blinky smiled wildly. “I have...oh goodness gracious, where does one start? There is the last copy of the Dishonorable Bodus’s work, several from the Venerable Bedehilde, of course -- I even have a few human theology books! I wonder if --”_ _

__“What about riddle? Riddles hard.” Argh suggested. Wren laughed._ _

__“You mean like Gatto? Are riddles even wise, though? Or just witty?”_ _

__“Good point.” Argh said thoughtfully with a tap to his chin._ _

__“Perhaps...we should see this more as learning proper discernment, rather than obtaining practical knowledge.” Blinky put forth, three hands behind his back and another twirling in the air above his head as he paced behind his desk. “We need to seek out a problem that needs resolving, a rather tricky problem, yes...and then have Master Kanjigar attempt to solve it by utilizing the gemstone!”_ _

__Kanjigar shrugged. “Sounds reasonable enough.”_ _

__“What problem should we test it on then?” Wren asked innocently. She tried to wrap her head around a local issue. Bagdwella was arguing with her sister in Utah again, though those things usually resolved on their own between those two, even if messily so. Vendel was recently grappling with whether he should retire soon, but again: that always resolved itself; her Papa, as much as he complained about ungrateful idiots taking up his time, could never bring himself to step down. He didn’t need a gemstone to figure that one out at the end of the day._ _

__Looking up from her pondering, Wren realized that the three other trolls were watching her carefully. A little too carefully. Kanjigar had a ghost of a smile on his face, one brow higher than the other. Argh smiled openly as Blinky grinned expectedly with puffed cheeks, top hands holding onto his overall straps._ _

__“...No. I know what you are all thinking, and it’s a no.” Wren asserted, crossing her arms. “Draal and I can work things out ourselves.”_ _

__“When all of Trollmarket questions you two and your ability to court, I say it is a problem. Especially with the both of you being so stubborn and involved in such a mess.” Blinky said. “Well, that’s settled. Master Kanjigar shall play peacemaker for you and Draal.”_ _

__“It will be my honor.” he said, now finally placing the gemstone into the back of the Amulet. When it snapped shut, and accepted the gemstone, he placed it on his chest. With a flash of blue light, he transformed into his armor. Blinky held his hands together._ _

__“So? How do you feel?” he asked._ _

__Kanjigar’s eyes widened a little, giving a quick flash of white, and stared off for a few seconds. Wren held her breath, hoping that she didn’t break his brain somehow. Then snapping back into reality, he said, “I’m going to speak with Bagdwella. See you later.”_ _

__“Bagdwella? But--”_ _

__The Trollhunter walked out, not bothering to stop or speak with anyone as he did so. Argh grunted._ _

__“That weird.”_ _

__“Yeah, weird.” Wren pondered, wondering why he would go off in such a rush to speak to one of her friends about herself and Draal._ _

__\----_ _

__Kanjigar could not fully explain it. He just knew, deep in his gut, to seek out Bagdwella immediately, concerning his son and Wren. It was a rapid succession of thoughts that lead to that conclusion: the shopkeeper would provide him with something of use to solve his problem._ _

__Bagdwella proved eager to speak and gossip on the matter._ _

__“Oh, those two walk around together as usual, joined at the hip as the humans say. But they look so stiff about it. Wren did swing by this morning, though she was alone this time.”_ _

__“Why alone?” Kanjigar pressed._ _

__“Something about the bards being in town. She looked more peppy than usual, you know how she adores dancing. Knowing Draal, he could be out with friends if not training himself silly.”_ _

__Draal...friends…and the Forge was empty when he walked by it….so to the pub it was. Kanjigar barely gave a farewell as he turned away to find his son there. Again, it was a quick combination of thoughts forming into the need to perform one single action; a bit overwhelming to handle inside his mind, but not so much so that it prevented him from getting the job done._ _

__It was a sorry sight the moment Kanjigar walked in. While the pub was full and active, there was a corner where Draal sat, obviously drunk off his rocker and still demanding more tankards of glug. His usual entourage surrounding him were all passed out. The Trollhunter snorted, never knowing how hard of a drinker Draal could be, yet also unplused that it was so._ _

__“Congratulations on winning the drinking contest.” Kanjigar announced dryly as he approached the table. Draal squinted in the dim crystal light to look at him, and scowled._ _

__“I always win.” he slurred, sloppily downing another tankard with ease. Kanjigar slammed it back down onto the table._ _

__“Is this how you desert your duty to your bride? Drinking away your anger in a crusty old pub?” he shamed. “Get up, son, and face the music.”_ _

__“Don’t tell me about music!” he growled, swaying as he stood up. “She was singing and dancing, and happy about it...better without me…”_ _

__Kanjigar sighed, knowing he was starting an intoxicated ramble he could not hope to understand. “Follow me, let’s settle this once and for all. This lover’s quarrel is getting old.”_ _

__Draal was surprisingly compliant, though that may have been thanks to the ocean of glug he consumed. He was irritable and stubborn, but easy enough to maneuver around. Wren was likely back in the Heartstone, so Kanjigar took them there. Sure enough, Wren was at the grindstone again, experimenting with other stone hearts after the assumed success of the first one._ _

__“Hey Kanjigar, how was….” she stopped speaking as soon as she saw Draal come up from behind him, looking as sore a sight as Kanjigar found him. He could barely stand up straight, and ended up stumbling a bit until he leaned against the warm, glowing wall. Dark, purplish circles were under his eyes, and looked as if he hadn’t rested at all. Wren sighed._ _

__“Is he alright?”_ _

__“Technically, yes, though I think I’ve had enough of this gemstone.” Kanjigar sighed as he took off the Amulet, and with it, the armor. Without removing the wisdom stone, he placed it in a pocket. “It’ll come of use to me, I’ll make sure of that. I’ll send you your payment later.”_ _

__“Oh, of course. Thank you.” Wren said, watching as the only other sober troll left the room. Draal hardly noticed what was happening, and instead grumbled to himself against the wall. She took off her goggles and set down her tools to approach him._ _

__“My goodness, Draal, what have you been up to?” Wren asked, tenderly taking an arm and leading him to her cave not far from the Heartstone entrance._ _

__“Had fun without me, huh? So happy without m-me ruining it…” he said with a frown and swallow. “Life must be so grand…I’m glad for you…”_ _

__Wren bit her lip, realizing that he must have found her at the square, when traveling musicians stopped by. Having not danced since the Light Festival, she joined in when she was supposed to meet with Draal at the Forge. At the time, it seemed like petty, though harmless, spite: she was growing sick of the tense energy between herself and Draal, and found she would like to have fun doing what she actually liked, rather than sit around like a pretty trophy for Draal to ignore._ _

__Well, the big brute had more feelings than he let on, apparently. Wren pushed him through the front of her little cave, and plopped his side onto her nest._ _

__“Stay there, you need something to eat and sober up with.”_ _

__“Run off again, like you always do.” Draal half-whined, rolling lazily onto his belly. He groaned from a growing headache, when Wren dropped a bowl by accident. She returned soon enough with some water and used aluminum wrappings._ _

__“Eat, drink. You’ve done enough damage to yourself, you big whelp.”_ _

__“YER the whelp.” Draal retorted thickly. A finger poked her forehead for emphasis and she pushed it away._ _

__“Okay, fine, _I’m the whelp._ I skipped out on your silly training session. I’m sorry.” she huffed, turning away to place her bag on a low table next to her nest. _ _

__Draal munched on the food now, though not too much. “You hate me. I know that now. That’s why…”_ _

__“Oh you brute, I never hated you.” Wren said, reaching over to rub the back of his neck. “I’m just...upset.”_ _

__Draal growled, eating more of the shavings before sloppily pushing the bowl away. He didn’t want to feel so good when she touched him, wanting to be mad at her instead._ _

__“And you’re upset too.” she sighed. “If you need space, I understand. Maybe…”_ _

__But he was almost asleep now, eyes half closed as his ears flicked in a hidden almost-dream. Wren rolled her eyes and got up to put away the dishes. Just before she managed to sneak out to finish her work, she heard Draal mutter, “I’m your warrior, not your brute.”_ _

__Wren didn’t say anything, and merely left out her door. By then, he was truly asleep and working off all the glug he accumulated. They would have to finish this talk later._ _

__\----_ _

__Wren soon returned, her work for the day finished. She found her nest disturbed, but empty. Draal had left, then._ _

__Just as she bent down to fix her blankets, she paused. In the middle of the nest, sat a courting gift: a diamond, a wild one, the size of her hand. Perhaps he heard about her recent experiments? Her heart sank. It was possible that Draal planned to speak with her, at the Forge; if that were true, then it explained why he was so upset at her sudden rejection. No wonder the fool drank himself away: he assumed the worse and wanted to hide his anger under the pretense of partying._ _

__He must have been more perceptive than she gave him credit for, for the two rarely engaged in any conversation these days and she said nothing of diamonds to him. Wren couldn’t help but smile, despite it all, remembering what Blinky and Argh told her not long ago._ _

___“Let Draal be Draal.”_ _ _

__So he was. Wren placed the diamond on the table, and readied for her evening rest. Tomorrow, she would go straight to a sober Draal, and fix things up once and for all. Maybe for once, too, she would have her voice heard, and for the better._ _

__\----_ _

__It was nightfall, just outside the Arcadia forest, not far from the human town’s bridge. Kanjigar donned his armor now, the wisdom stone placed within the Amulet, and awaited to see what it would show him. It lead him here so far, and now he waited in the heavy, midsummer air._ _

__The sudden rush of deductions from before swirled around in his mind. This time, he focused on a more serious problem, with implications for all of trollkind._ _

___Bular. Help me with Bular._ He spoke in his mind. _ _

__The dark prince had been unusually bold lately, attacking more humans in successive progression, and making odd trade deals with out-of-town trolls. The Vicious had no business doing any of those things, much less existing outside the Darklands with his father, Gunmar, so Kanjigar breathed in, and waited for the gemstone to grant him a solution to this problem._ _

__A familiar scent filled his nostrils, one of decaying human flesh and hate. And in his head, while the Amulet pulsed, he heard one word._ _

___Fight._ _ _

__No wonder it rang such a command. The second it did so, Bular stepped out from the shadows, his blades out and ready for blood. He grinned widely._ _

__“Welcome, Trollhunter, to your end!”_ _

__And fight they did._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> headcanon time toot toot
> 
> Baby Wren and Friends -- Wren was prone to playing with other creatures like gnomes, as other kids didn't really like her. And considering pixies are shiny, a toddling!Wren is gonna want to play with it. Kanjigar, honestly really is a gentle father at heart, but he limits himself and puts up far too many barriers, despite his good intentions. He'll console a kid well enough to get them to stop crying and then drop them when they are fine again, something that parallels how he treats Draal. As per the usual, young Draal is an ass lmao
> 
> Gem cleaving -- I feel like magic (or "arcana" as often described) is more of a science to trollkind than a spiritual/mystical thing. As such, I mixed New Age ideas about stones and made it more science-y in terms of engineering their use as a type of battery for different forms of energy. I also figured that few trolls artificially create minerals the way a modern day human lab would, so Wren would push that idea to use in her own work as she detests being limited by rules. 
> 
> More Dad Vendel -- He brags about Wren a lot out of her earshot, as he does love her and think the best of her, he just thinks that praising your child *too* much is ineffective and even harmful. And who to better brag about your currently-on-thin-ice daughter than with a future in-law to make her look good?
> 
> Dad Kanjigar -- He tries but he's always more tough on his own flesh and blood than on other people; probably since he fears for Draal as he is a warrior and can get himself hurt despite his best efforts to make sure that DOESN'T happen. 
> 
> Stones and Amulet -- I always felt that the stones used in the Amulet were underutilized in the show! They were so cool. In fact, part of the reason why I made Wren a gem cleaver in this fic was to explore the craft of cleaving and see it used more in future stories.
> 
> Drunk Draal -- a whiny baby, NEXT
> 
> The Amulet and death -- In a children's book based on the show, there is a prelude of Kanjigar knowing he is going to die because the Amulet was ticking down to the time of his death. I decided to fiddle with that idea, and instead made the wisdom stone leading to his demise, rather than the Amulet itself.


	6. Wren's Becoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the death of the Trollhunter, Draal and Wren find peace again in their sorrow, only to have it tested once again by the Amulet's choice -- forcing Wren to make her own paths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda funky, in that there are two flashback scenes. Normally I would fix this but I was already chapters ahead when this was made, so I'll leave it as is. At the least, both flashbacks pertain to the story.

Kanjigar was dead.

Wren still did not know how to feel about that. She did feel sorrow for Draal, who knew this day would come eventually, but admired and adored his father all the same. His death had been a courageous one, she heard, fitting for his title – but a death by Bular meant that Draal The Deadly had a new name on his list for those to end himself.

At first, the gem cleaver was almost afraid of the anger Draal expressed that morning, when Blinky returned to share the terrible news. Kanjigar had sacrificed himself by jumping into the morning sun, under the Arcadia bridge just over the entrance to Trollmarket, in order to prevent Bular from taking the Amulet. From what he and Argh could deduce, it had been the finale to a night-long battle. 

After the kerfuffle with Frek, and the uneasiness between himself and Wren, enough was going on in Draal’s life for this to happen as well. He roared and fumed and looked on the verge of rushing to the surface to go after Bular himself. Had the Sun not risen, Wren did not doubt that he would have.

In Draal’s cave, where this news was shared, Blinky turned to Wren as the warrior punched a wall with a mighty roar. He seemed unperturbed by the sight, as it was normal enough for a troll - and a warrior, no less - to express his feelings thus.

“I will leave you two alone, to express yourselves in privacy.” he spoke quietly, holding one of Wren’s hands tenderly in his two upper ones. “I must go back to the bridge, and keep an eye on the Amulet until I can retrieve it and Master Kanjigar’s remains. Are you willing to stay here?”

Wren nodded, and Blinky left. By now, Draal was leaning on the wall with one arm, his head hidden against it. His breathing was ragged, angry still. She couldn’t blame him: the last he saw of his father, he was in a drunken stupor, and left to argue with Wren. This certainly wasn’t how she hoped to patch things up.

After taking in a deep breath and letting it out, she slowly approached him and laid a hand on one of his back crystals. Despite their spat, Wren felt willing to do what she could to help. 

“Draal…is there anything you want? Or need, from me?” Wren asked gently. Draal only responded with a snort through his nose, almost a growl, and she sighed. Then she recalled what he said yesterday. _I am your warrior, not your brute._

When was the last time she called him her warrior? When was the last time they were gentle with one another? Wren felt ashamed, realizing that the past few months really had been rough on their relationship, and it had not been entirely one-sided.

“...My warrior, if you need to be alone, then I can leave you be. But I am here for you.” she consoled by his arm. “Do you wish me to leave?”

“…No.” Draal strained out after a moment. “Just…”

He was shaking now, but he forced himself to finish. “I just need you, here. Don’t leave me. Please.”

Knowing Draal, he needed an affirming touch. Wren took a hand and guided him back to his nest, sitting up with her legs crouched to the side, and guiding his head to her lap. She slowly traced her fingers over his head and horns. Though his breathing was still uneven, Wren could feel some tension leave his shoulders as he began to purr. Goodness, how long had it been since they did this last? She realized how much she missed this closeness with him.

“Do you want to talk, or rest?” she asked him.

“Rest. With you.” Draal answered, wrapping himself up around her. Wren continued her petting.

“Then we’ll rest, my warrior. My brave, amazing warrior.” Wren said with genuine affection. 

It was strange: for so long she despised being pushed into this courting with Draal, yet deep down she was still his friend. She still loved him as such. And right now, her friend was in pain. More than she likely knew. The hurt from before felt petty now.

Wren’s thoughts then quickly delved into the Amulet itself. She did not doubt that Draal would pick up that Mantle, taking up his father’s place as Trollhunter and avenging his death by killing Bular himself. Or at least, attempt to. Her gut twisted at the thought of Draal putting himself in danger like that. It felt…wrong. Draal was stubborn and rarely thought before he acted; he would be the polar opposite of Kanjigar. It was bound to create some kind of chaos.

And what if he died before they married? Or afterwards? What would life be like as a widow? Wren felt numb at the thought. She was even more shocked that she felt willing to marry and have a family with him, that she saw a future in that now. Funny how death could do that.

Still, she simply could not predict what life would be like as the wife of the Trollhunter. It wasn’t like Draal’s mother was still alive; she died long ago, and could give no advice for a future daughter-in-law. Rika perhaps could sympathize, as she was a widow as well, and lost a child no less; but, she did not work about the night, wondering if her husband would come home from battle. No: her beloved had been a tinker by trade, and he was always home on time from his little workshop. It was no battle with Bular.

Abruptly, Draal stopped his purring.

“Are you alright?” she asked carefully. Draal sat up a little, rubbing his head against her chest. Wren sighed quietly into him, enjoying his breath on her stone skin.

“I will be.” he said evenly. “But it’s time to live in the present, not the past. Enough of these squabbles. I need to take up after my father, and await for the Amulet.”

“Do you have to?” Wren asked, feeling on edge now. Her hands moved to hold his head up to look at her. Draal smiled a little at the worry etched in her face. Sitting up all the way and holding her head too, he touched foreheads with her.

“I will.” he said with determination. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’ve been training for this moment my whole life. I’ll make you proud, just you wait.”

“No matter what happens,” Wren said rubbing her nose on his, “you will always be my warrior.”

Draal’s smile changed as he grew in confidence. It was almost a smirk. “And you will always be my little Wren, my sweet.”

He then swallowed a bit, looking down. “I...I also wish things were better, between us. This is not how I wanted to accept life as a Trollhunter.”

“I do too.” Wren replied. “I know we see things so differently, but I hope it can be a good thing for us, in our own way.”

“I hope so too, my sweet.” He then withdrew from her hold, standing up. “I should leave now and wait for Blinky. Next time you see me, you’ll be looking at the Trollhunter!”

Wren smiled, and watched him leave. It fell as soon as he was gone.

Well, she had no business being in his cave any longer, and it would be half a day before the Amulet could be retrieved. It would be nerve wracking to simply sit around and wait for Draal to return, fully decked out in his new armor. Not wishing to bite her nails reading books or pacing the Heartstone chamber, Wren opted to go fetch her collecting basket and wander the nearby caves for more gems.

Yes, a little free-range expedition on her own would do some good. Wren ran off to fetch her things, and explore to her heart’s content.

\----

_The underground creek was shallow but moved quickly. Random crystals jutted out of the ground and above them on the high ceiling, giving the two whelps just enough light to play by. Lora stuck out her tongue in dramatic flair, keeling backwards from a pretend sword swing to her chest._

_“Ah! Mighty Deya, you have slain me!” she yelled out, making Wren laugh._

_“That’s not what Gunmar said. Besides, he was thrown into the Darklands.”_

_“That’s why it’s called pretend.” Lora said, leaving one eye open as she fell into the creek and did a mock wail. “Oh curse the Fates!”_

_Wren laughed again and dropped her stick acting as a sword. Her friend snorted and sat up, water trickling over her lap._

_“Hey, that was my best work there!” Lora whined, crossing her arms. Wren shrugged and sat down next to her. It was almost comical, how much more stocky Lora was in comparison to Wren, but it was never something that bothered them, or something that was worth acknowledging. Lora was her big sister in every sense of the word and the two of them adored it._

_“Sorry, I guess I just don’t play very well with swords and stuff.” Wren admitted. “Even if it’s just pretend.”_

_Lora smirked, leaning back on her arms. “You seem to like it enough whenever Draal tells his stories…”_

_That earned her a splash in the face with water. They both howled with laughter and started their water fight, until the crystals around them began to dim suddenly a few moments later. Both of the girls paused and shared a look._

_Before either could say anything, there was the tiniest hum of singing, sounding close by yet feeling as if it were far away. Wren smiled suddenly._

_“Fairies.” she whispered, and tugged at Lora’s hand. Lora, though just as eager to investigate the noise, frowned at that. She was pulled along to a side tunnel where it darkened further up._

_“Fairies are extinct, remember? They were--”_

_Before Lora could continue, Wren hushed her and soon they both saw twinkling lights. They made it to a ledge now, and Lora would have gasped._

_Far below them stood a massive cavern, it’s “ceiling” the night sky of the surface world. The moon was full, and below at the ground floor, a few trees and some shrubbery grew around a large pool of water. Above the water -- fairies._

_“Oh...Oh!” Lora almost yelped. Wren covered her mouth, and luckily the pastel, soft lights pulsating above the water did not seem to notice. The singing was more clear now though the words were song in a language they did not know. It was inviting, warm, and definitely otherworldly. Lora began to grow uncomfortable being so close to a fossil species that could whisk people away to other realms, but Wren was enamoured with the sight._

_“C’mon, just a little longer!” Wren begged when Lora grabbed her by the arm. It wasn’t hard at all to drag the runt away back to the other cavern._

_“Well, it’s just…” Lora assessed reasons to get Wren and herself out of there, and quickly came up with one. “You know, maybe Blinky wants to hear about this! He’s the one who said fairies lost that war all those years ago.”_

_While that got Wren moving, it -- well -- got her moving. The idea of sharing her discovery with a historian got the girl all kinds of excited, and made a spectacle of herself rushing through Trollmarket._

_“Mister Blinky! Mister Blinky!” Wren yelled out the whole time, until they both made it to his library. Blinky himself was reading quietly, hurriedly hiding away the romance novel under some scrolls when he saw children entering. A cup of cooling, gravel-like coffee sat on his desk._

_“Gracious me, girl! What is the matter?” Blinky asked, looking between the two carefully. Wren stumbled a bit when she ran into a book pile, but otherwise composed herself and took in a deep breath._

_“We saw fairies! In a forest thing! But it was underground! They were singing! And there was a pond and--”_

_“Slow down, Wren!” Blinky now chuckled. He walked over to them and gave Lora a questioning look. “Are you certain fairies were there?”_

_“Tell him, Lora! You saw it too!” Wren said in excitement. Lora looked sheepish now and kicked her feet a bit._

_“Well...it was kinda dim, and we didn’t get a super close look or anything…”_

_Wren lost her smile, and her brow furrowed. “Lora…”_

_“I still think it wasn’t fairies.” Lora admitted to her friend. “I know we saw something, but all the fairies are dead, right?”_

_“Lora!” Wren repeated with a stomp of her little foot. Blinky rested a hand on her shoulder._

_“I’m afraid she is right, little one. The pixies offed the lot of them ages ago.” he told her. Wren pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes._

_“I know what I saw. Those were fairies.”_

_Blinky sighed and stood up again. “Then believe what you believe. But if that was a haven, a true fairy hollow, then tread carefully. There you can make wishes, but at an expense you may not foresee.”_

_The girls were ushered out, and Lora saw the look in Wren’s eye._

_“I’m not going back there.” Lora said. Wren rolled her eyes._

_“Fine then, don’t. I’ll go by myself. I’m gonna make my wish.”_

_“But Mister Blinky said--”_

_“He said if they are fairies, and according to you and him, those aren’t real fairies anyway.” Wren huffed. “I’ll be back, just wait for me, okay?”_

_“Okay.” Lora said in anxious defeat. Wren ran back as fast as she could, and made it back to the cavern where they had played earlier. The lights were still dim as before, though the singing grew fainter now. Wren frenzied over to where the ledge had been and skidded to a stop._

_Her heart sank._

_The fairies were gone._

_Wren pouted. Her hand went into a hidden pocket in her dress, and took out the one gold coin she ever owned. It was the only thing of value that Wren had in her own possession, a relic of ages past that she knew was worth a fortune. Originally she had been keeping it safe to save up for a future cave, but there was something else that she wanted more than even a home: a family._

_Looking down, the pond did not seem so far away like it had the first time. Wren could even see her reflection in it. Sucking in a breath, the singing growing more distant and still ringing in her ears, Wren drew back her hand to throw the coin into the pond._

_“I wish for a family to call me kin, for a husband to love me, and...and…”_

_Wren stumbled a little. She knew magic wishes and spells worked best when done in threes -- it was common knowledge that even illiterate orphan runts learned. But what else could she ever want besides parents to raise her, and a troll to love her and raise their own family with her? Thinking quickly and acting on instinct, Wren finally found her third wish._

_“...and for me to have a place within Trollmarket, where I’ll be a part of something important.” she spoke softly. Then, Wren threw the coin, and watched it fall down into the water below with a resonating “plop!”_

_Wren smirked, looking over the ledge present day. From the looks of the darkening sky in the cavern’s opening, it was sunset and getting well past it soon. Though no fairies were ever found there again, Wren could clearly make out the green fauna around the still pond._

_She wondered if other coins could be found in there. How many wishes were made?_

It was funny, recalling that memory now. Blinky warned her that the wishes would be fulfilled in the most bizarre of ways. He wasn’t wrong, certainly. Wren simply wasn’t sure if it helped her in the end.

Not that it matters now, Wren told herself. Hoisting up the basket of gems she found, she decided it was time to return home. At the least, she had a family, a lover, and a purpose for living waiting for her.

—-

“Why isn’t it working?!” Draal demanded, hitting the Amulet on the work table’s edge. Blinky returned over an hour ago, yet the thing had barely even glowed or hummed in response. It was practically inert.

“Easy, you fool!” Blinky yelled, snatching it away from his grip and holding it away from him. “The Amulet does not always make a call so soon after death. It needs time to render its judgement.”

“I’ve been proving my worth since I could walk on two legs, _historian._ ” Draal snapped. Argh huffed and took a stand behind Blinky protectively.

“Amulet take time.” he affirmed in his rumbling voice. Draal snorted and crossed his arms.

“I shouldn’t be a hard pick.”

Vendel walked in now, his walking stick hitting the floor smartly as he strolled in. “Such a sentiment is shared, Draal, but no one in this room can force it to render a judgement. And Kanjigar was the best Trollhunter we have seen yet; even you, Draal, will have to live up to such a legend.”

Draal snorted again, looking away. He did not wish to think of his distant father now, of how he never let him work with him, of how poorly their last moment of time together was spent. Not now, when he was so close to holding this office to himself.

And just then, the Amulet began to hum, a mist coming forth from it. Draal jolted, taking a stance in the room as Blinky smiled widely.

“Ah ha! It is making its choice!” he announced as he held it out. Vendel’s eyes widened, and Argh too was amazed at the sight. 

Draal felt his chest puff up, all of his dreams and aspirations coming into place. Not only was he a seasoned warrior with a reputation of his own, but he was also courted to an Elder’s daughter whom he was proud to call friend, and now: he would be the Trollhunter. Soon enough they would be married, and start their little brood of whelps to grow the family of warriors-to-be that he never knew he wanted until now. All of his plans were falling into place before his eyes in mere seconds after years of set backs and failures. It was all worth it now.

That was, until the Amulet spoke out.

“ _Wren._ ”

Draal froze. “What?”

There was loud clatter from the entrance, as various gems and crystals hit the floor, a basket bouncing lightly just after. Looking over at the noise, all four trolls saw Wren there, having just arrived from her little foraging venture. She was shaking in her place, as wide eyed and gaping as the others.

“ _Wren the Cleaver._ ” it called again, this time whipping itself from Blinky’s hold on it, and flying over into Wren’s chest.

She yelped, purposely allowing it to fall onto the floor with the rest of the mess she made.

“No no no no no!” she said, waving her arms outward in protest. “No no no! No way! This is a mistake!”

The Amulet jumped up and hit her in the face this time.

“Ow! No!”

Vendel was the first to make a move, attempting to grab the Amulet mid-bounce. He looked equal parts horrified, worried, and shocked.

“This can not be!” he bellowed. Soon the others were surrounding Wren, Draal himself standing between her and the Amulet that tried fumble into Wren’s arms. He watched it flander about, as if in a dream, a snarl growing on his face.

“Now now, there is no reason for panic!” Blinky said, attempting to calm the situation. “Wren is familiar with weaponry, yes? And no doubt Draal has –”

This time Draal snapped. He spun around to face Wren and the others, feeling the Amulet bounce repeatedly at his spiked back.

“I have been guiding her to be a better gem cleaver for weapons of war, I have been entrusted to keep her safe, but I have NOT trained her to be a warrior!”

“Yes, but she can–”

“SHE’S GOING TO DIE, BLINKOUS.” Draal practically roared with wild fear.

Well, that did it. Wren’s eyes rolled back and she fainted with a loud “clank” on the Hearthstone floor. The Amulet, ever persistent, rolled on its edge to be by Wren’s side.

“Oh goodness gracious.” Blinky murmured with all hands rubbing down on his face.

—-

_First order of business for the day: gnomes._

_The little creatures she considered her friends, so Wren - just a toddling - sought them out first most evenings. She walked from vendor to vendor, looking between their buildings and tents, her weak hearing failing to catch the chittering of such loathsome cretins._

_It made sense, then, that the gnomes were always the first to find her. A particular one that day announced himself with a stringed, makeshift guitar, strumming it with gusto and serenading the toddling boisterously. Wren was lured into the little alleyway where he took her, clapping and giggling eagerly for more. As he continued to perform, other gnomes gathered around her to sniff her out for any possible goods; it was not uncommon for troll young to carry some sort of trading goods or bits of precious metal as money, to use in case they needed to run an errand for their family._

_Lucky Wren, for she had no kin. The gnomes grumbled at her empty makeshift dress pocket and moved on to look for parasites, recalling their first meeting with her when she originally arrived in town. Alas: Wren was free of any pests as well, save the gnomes manipulating her. After a few seconds of angry chattering, they all made their leave. The singing gnome looked more sad than irritated to end his performance, and turned to follow, before hearing the girl whine. Looking back, he was surprised to see her signing for him to play some more._

_“P’ease?” she said, using one of the few words she knew. Acting bashful and chuckling, the gnome nodded and played another song for her. He kept the act up until she grew tired and weary, laying down on the cool stone ground and eventually closing her eyes to a soft melody._

_“Bye bye,” she told him sleepily._

_Awwing, the gnome patted her head, and then turned to leave to find his brethren._

_Such a sweet troll child, he thought to himself. If only more of them could appreciate the simple things in life as he did. Even his own fellow gnomes were quite aggressive. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so dangerous just to find their next meal, if all folk involved were more gentle, kind._

_Little Wren herself chirped as she fell into a restful sleep; sweet dreams awaited her._

\----

It was strange to dream of gnomes, especially early memories of the cretins, after the mess Wren found herself in. She was waking up now and felt slightly disoriented. There was speaking going on around her, yet it did not feel like Heartstone. It was…oh!

Wren jolted her eyes open, sitting up on her elbow in her nest, rubbing her head where it hit the ground earlier. She was alone, but just at the other end of her cave, the others from earlier sat in a semi-circle to one another, speaking. No one noticed she had awoken, so she laid back down to quietly listen in.

“–with training of course.” Blinky finished. Argh nodded in agreement.

“Training or not, she doesn’t stand a chance against Bular.” Vendel strained. “I will not allow my daughter to leave Trollmarket until her safety is assured!”

“Vendel, possessing such a sacred office puts one on the line of duty. She will have to leave for a call eventually.” he argued back, losing his patience. “We need to start her training as soon as possible if she has any hope to live longer than a day!”

“I agree with Vendel.” Draal interrupted, sounding distant and cool, yet anger at the surface just barely. “Wren is _not_ built for the warrior’s life.”

Wren pouted where she lay, but did not make a sound. An ear perked up to hear better.

“For that, I…I intend to be her Guardian, more so than before.” he continued, a hint of regret in his voice replacing the anger. “If it is not my destiny to bear the sword of Daylight, then perhaps it is to teach her how to wield it, to protect her as she learns.”

Oh, Draal. Whatever annoyance she felt melted a little. Despite everything, Wren knew he was as scared as she was, not to mention still grieving his own father and perhaps questioning his worth after not being chosen.

Wren’s ears flicked in nervous energy now. _Draal was still likely grieving for Kanjigar._ If she was not careful…well, he would be grieving for her, too. The poor girl would have spun herself into another tizzy at the thought of dying, had Draal not continued on.

“And if I am to be a proper Guardian, I can not wait along the sidelines and watch my wife-to-be risk injury and death at the hands of the same troll who killed my father. I demand that the wedding happen as soon as it can, to truly give all I am to her protection as her husband.”

Okay, Wren was awake now. She scrambled to her feet, squeaking out an undignified, “What?!”

“Wren!” Vendel proclaimed, looking relieved. “Goodness girl, fainting at the thought of death, that is hardly how one starts their role as Trollhunter!”

“But that is why you have us to aid you!” Blinky affirmed, also standing up with the others.

“We help train, protect.” Argh rumbled with a smile.

“And I won’t leave your side, not for one second.” Draal solemnly swore to her. Wren was shaking, and he took it as a sign to wrap a hand about her in comfort.

“This may not be the future we imagined, but…it’s _our_ future.” he told her. Vendel nodded.

“I agree. It’s prudent that we arrange the ceremony immediately.”

Something in Wren clicked in that moment. Yes, her friends and family genuinely loved and cared for her. Yes, they worried for her safety, and she knew that they were working their hardest to keep her from dying. She loved Draal, she knew that now, and understood why he did what he did. Everything that they did, it was for her.

 _But she did not want it._ Not like this.

Without a word, Wren allowed herself to be pulled around by Draal, only half-listening to the plans that Vendel and Blinky made without her. Soon enough, the others left, leaving the two lovers alone.

Draal turned to face her, his hands now cradling each side of her face. Wren almost faltered in that moment, noting how tender he was being. She never saw him more determined or unsure at the same time.

“Wren, my sweet,” he swallowed, showing more courage than fear this time, “I promise, I swear on my honor and my life, to let nothing harm you.”

She looked down, unable to look him in the eyes after the plan she inwardly made to run away from here. 

She HAD to. No one let her make her own choices, everything she did in her current life was due to the decision of another. Even if made in love, Wren found herself despising such things. Suddenly, her old self - the spunky, wild-hearted youngling of the past - swelled up in her chest.  
But for now, she hid it, and she especially had to hide it from Draal. She had to if she wanted to make a successful run for it. 

Eventually, she said, “I know you will. I trust you on that.”

Draal nuzzled against her and stepped back to let her go.

“I will be right back. I need to catch up on matters with Vendel. Then, we can begin our life together.” he said with a small smile, leaving just as he finished talking. As soon as the door closed behind him, Wren got to work planning her future escape.

It was going to take some time, and she had until the wedding day to complete it. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon notes AHOY
> 
> Love Language -- Anyone heard of this? It's super neat and helpful to helping nourish ANY kind of relationship, not just romantic. Anyway, I feel like Draal's love language would be physical touch and words of affirmation. I will die on that hill.
> 
> Reaction to the Amulet's choice -- There are some similarities and differences between reactions to Jim and to Wren. Blinky and Argh are more or less the same, as they may not have FULL confidence in her abilities, but they give her training and hope to become a good Trollhunter. Vendel is also similar to that in the show (negative), but more terrified for her than annoyed or bamboozled. Draal still feels betrayed in a way, but not by Wren; because of what they went through together before and because of his love for her, he more easily accepts his role as a guardian to the trollhunter. 
> 
> Fairies -- Their basically like pixies in that they are glow balls (one of their forms, anyway) but are more about granting wishes and are connected to a combination of the elements. So a place that is underground (earth), with a pond (water), open to the sky (air) and surrounded by foilage (wood) AND it's exposed to sun and moonlight? A fairy haven. At least, if they still exist. 
> 
> Blinky -- BLINKOUS GALADRIGAL READS HUMAN ROMANCE NOVELS PASS IT ON!
> 
> Weddings -- I mentioned in a previous chapter how marrying very young was not that common for young adults in trollkind, and often times, even if courting, the wedding is far off in the future. Hence: why it's so shocking for Wren that Draal wants it sooner. The others are okay with the unusual timing because of the circumstances.
> 
> Gnome Chompsky -- One reason why he lives alone is because he, like Wren, is "not like the other girls" lol. he's aggressive and annoying, sure, but deep down (as shown in the show) he's a romantic and just wants a happy domestic life. He kinda sees Wren then as a kindred spirit over time.


	7. A Snake In Bride's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren finds herself becoming deceptive towards her loved ones when she pretends to accept her role as both Trollhunter and soon-to-be-bride, but tries to hold out for a freedom she longs for.

Wren figured, fairly quickly, that she could not escape to the surface, let alone any troll dwelling, in her current state. She needed more preparation than she initially thought. Recalling her days as a petty scavenger, and humbly admitting that she was _far_ out of practice, Wren decided to hold off escape until she bettered herself in self-defense. 

Thankfully, as Trollhunter, she would require training anyway. Her eagerness for it impressed itself upon Draal in a good way, seeing this as her softening to his way of life. 

“So, how do you plan to fight with Bular the Vicious, when the time comes?” Blinky asked with optimism the very next day. They were in the Forge now, where Argh and Draal walked with them inwards. 

“With luck.” Wren answered with honesty. 

“Lot of luck.” Argh added with even more honesty.

“Which is why we must begin your training immediately!” Blinky said with a finger pointing up towards the stone remains of a former Trollhunter cowering in fear. “We don’t want another Unkar the Unfortunate, do we?”

“Torn limb from limb on his first night.” Argh added for emphasis.

“I don’t need to hear about that story again!” Wren called from her spot, Amulet in hand now. “I want to be trained, not scared to death.”

“Ah, but that brings me to rule number one of Trollhunting!” Blinky said, now on the brink of a lecture. “There are three, actually, something you should learn and keep to heart, if you wish to live through a battle with Bular, or _any_ adversary.”

“Only three?” Wren asked, now standing around the others in the Forge’s center as Blinky continued to a set of controls in the back.

“Yes, three! Rule number one: always be afraid!”

“Noted.” she said, crossing her arms. 

“Rule number two: always finish the fight!” he continued. “You must kill your opponent if you wish to vanquish the threat they possess to others, lest their dangers return to you or the ones you are protecting.”

“I...I am not so harsh as to do that.” Wren put carefully as she unwound her arms.

“Our world is a harsh one.” Draal said with seriousness, speaking up for the first time since they arrived. “It is best to accept that, if you wish to survive as Trollhunter.”

Wren by now was looking uncomfortable. Draal was always going to be Draal, alright. He was a killer to any who dared threaten Trollmarket, trollkind, and their way of life. But what about Wren? Could she still be herself and follow through these deadly rules? 

“And finally, rule number three.” Blinky said, with more dignity than it deserved. “When in doubt, kick them in the gronk nuks.”

“Gronk nuks.” Wren repeated with some disbelief and amusement. Blinky stomped his foot twice, a scythe from the wall belting out and almost hitting her in the pelvis.

“Goodness gracious!” she shouted, stumbling back and nearly falling over. “That rule is real? Kicking someone _down there_ is a rule of Trollhunting?”

“Precisely.” Blinky affirmed. 

She looked down at her Amulet. Earlier, Vendel had taken out the wisdom stone, intrigued by her handiwork and wishing to study it further. As much as she sometimes bemoaned about her path of gem cleaving, it sure sounded nicer now than learning how not to die as fast...or kicking someone in the nards. Perhaps Vendel was attempting to mimic her experiment with other stones as they spoke, wishing to distract himself from the reality that his beloved daughter was now Merlin’s Champion.

“Hmph. You better listen to our words.” Draal continued, looking more intently at her when she did not answer. “We can not afford to see you fail.”

“I’d hate to simply die, myself.” Wren noted dryly. Draal smirked. 

“Fail, die, it’s all the same in this war. Failure means death, and victory means continuing on.”

“I thought death was the only way to end the fight for victory?” Wren said in reference to the second rule, genuinely confused now. Draal fumbled over his words, having trouble trying to clarify what he said. 

 

“I mean, just...you know what I mean.” he finalized. Draal then stood back and looked ever at Blinky. “Historian! Perhaps now you should be training Wren?”

“Of course of course! Now, Master Wren.” Blinky addressed her with the formal title as she drew closer to him with Draal. “Don the armor, if you please.”

Wren held out her Amulet, giving the incantation, and transformed before their eyes. 

“For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is Mine to Command!”

Wren floated a bit in the air with both feet off the ground; the handful of times she saw Kanjigar do so, he transformed quickly, so she found herself surprised when the Amulet took its time. It made sense -- the armor had to adjust to her body, her unique needs, and by the time it finished, it fit her more snugly than a cat to a hunter’s trap. Wren landed heavily on one knee, and stumbled back up. 

“This thing is so heavy!” Wren confessed, stretching out to examine her armored arms. She looked down as well, noticing that two bolts of magical fabric covered her front and back armor plates, cackling with energy to cover her pelvis and inner thighs. Just as it had been with Kanjigar, the metal was a gleaming, magical steel. “Wow!”

“Wow.” Draal repeated after her, finally seeing his future wife decked out before his eyes. A small, open smile grew on his face, but died down when he remembered what such a position meant for her. He cleared his throat. “Let’s get started then.”

“I learned the three rules. So what next?” she asked. Blinky stomped his feet again, a dummy popping up from the floor and shooting a fire spell at her. She shrieked and ducked to the floor, missing it by inches. Draal jumped back too but with better grace, and Blinky stood safely right where he had been. He smirked.

“We practice rule number one, until you are ready to implement rule number two!”

Draal stepped far back now, reluctantly leaving behind Wren as she continued to run around avoid getting hit. “Keep your head on your shoulders, own your fear!” he shouted in support.

“AAAAH!” she yelled, sliding across the floor when a dummy popped up in her direction. The fire ball this time singed the ends of her hair, barely catching her. 

“Go Wren!” came a cheer from the side. Argh stood up on his hind legs, eyes wide and smile even wider as he held up a fist in support. She would have laughed if not for the fire attacking her.

“Do I really have to do this?! I already know how to be scared!” Wren yelped, tripping over herself and covering her head as another dummy sprung before her.

“Fear sharpens your senses! Fear is what keeps you alive!” Blinky shouted out, hands behind his back as he silently assessed her reflexes. He took out one fist and shook it in the air. “Now use that fear to defend yourself!”

Wren rolled out of the way of another fire attack. Recalling that she had a sword at her disposal now (how could she have forgotten that important piece of information?), she threw out a hand and the Sword of Daylight materialized in her grip. 

_Okay, focus. Remember what Draal taught you about broadswords,_ Wren told herself, fumbling to hold it properly with both of her thin hands. It gradually shrunk itself to a more manageable size.

Ears flicking at the loud, clanking sound of another dummy coming up behind her, Wren stood and twirled around at the same time, using the blade to counter the attack. The shock of fire magic hitting daylight-infused metal caused her to stumble back, and she barely got her footing when blocking another attack. Soon she grew used to the power of the fire, and started to twirl, glide, and even dance her way around the succession of fire balls. Not the most graceful movement of course, but now she was smiling, rather than screaming. 

“Hey, this isn’t so bad! Ha!” she proclaimed with another successful block. Blinky, noticing that she was growing cocky, pressed a control on the wall next to him, causing the floor plate underneath her to rise and tilt rapidly. Wren lost her footing and tumbled downwards, the sword flying from her grip and vanishing into blue mist.

“Ow!” she shouted, hurrying back to her feet. Just as she did, a fireball hit her square in the back and she flew forward several feet.

“Ooooh.” Argh groaned, getting back on all fours and walking to her. Blinky closed down the mechanics of the Forge, and nonchalantly sauntered over to where Wren struggled to stand.

“Fear is what keeps you alive, but it is _arrogance_ that gets you killed.” Blinky said to her, helping her up as she stumbled. “Especially for someone like you, you can not ever assume you are safe.”

Argh blew air out his nose. “Wren born a runt. Very weak. Will be used against you.”

“Yes, I know, I’m hardly warrior material.” Wren responded, thinking of her plan to eventually run away and how that might affect it. “But that doesn’t matter now. I have you all to help. I can do this...I hope.”

“That’s the spirit, Master Wren!” Blinky said with a shake to her shoulder. “Now, let’s take that spirit, and continue our training!”

“Do I have to?” she half-whined, already aching and rubbing her back. Draal snorted to hide his laughter, speaking up for the first time since training began. 

“Yes, but lets focus on your swordplay. Take it out, and show me how you stand with it.”

Wren pursed her lips, calling the Sword of Daylight into her hands. Blinky walked around her, Draal watching from the side, as both separately assessed her natural stance. One foot was in front of the other, toes pointed in opposite directions; she held the hilt of the sword low, close to her body, with shoulders back and head high.

“Feet are sturdy, but your chest is too far out.” Blinky noted with a tap to her chestplate. Draal nodded in agreement, and then paused. 

“Wait, Wren -- you dance still, don’t you?” he asked. Wren looked confused, unsure what that had to do with anything. She rarely danced anymore. What with her increased responsibilities as a gem cleaver, the only time Wren jumped into the crowd was for festivals or other troll get-togethers. It had been one of the few things of troll culture that she enjoyed.

“I mean, a little.” she said after some thought. “Dancing won’t exactly help with keeping me alive though.”

Blinky caught on, and told her, “No no, this is good! You dance! And when you were avoiding the fire--”

“--she was dancing her way away from them!” Draal finished, feeling clever for having to be the first to figure it out. Wren rolled her eyes and got out of her stance, now leaning on the sword’s hilt like a cane.

“Just let me know when training is over, because this is getting more ridiculous by the second.”

It was another few hours before Blinky was satisfied. He wanted to test out her natural inclinations as a dancer, to see it’s use in combat. While there were plenty of adjustments to make, Draal and Blinky were encouraged to see Wren forming her own fighting style already. 

Of course, all good things come to an end, including hopeful training sessions. Draal wrapped his hand around her waist and walked out with her after the others left.

“So, you aren’t _too_ terrible.” Draal teased. Wren sighed. 

“How many more of those things until I’m good enough to fight?” she asked. 

“I’ve been a warrior my entire life, and you never truly stop training.” Draal answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She groaned, he laughed. He enjoyed the moment, happy that things were somewhat back to normal, even if vastly different from how he imagined it just days before.

“...Thank you, by the way. For helping me.” Wren eventually said, laying an arm around the hand holding her. “I wouldn’t be half as decent as I was without you tutoring me all those years.”

Draal’s eyes widened in surprise before breaking out a toothy smile. “Anything for you, my sweet.”

They walked to the pub, to plot out what to practice next over some glug. On the outside, it was a jovial sight -- fellow patrons were happy that the couple was properly courting again. Glug even gave them a round for free. 

But inwardly, Wren felt terrible. She was smiling and laughing and planning things with Draal, knowing that she was also planning to run off at some point.

 _Maybe I won’t leave forever...I just want to get away long enough to figure out things on my own,_ she defended to herself. Wren forced a smile, looking at Draal again, as he talked about ideas for future lessons on swordplay. 

Wren supposed she should just enjoy this moment with Draal while she had it, and delve more into their Trollhunting plans.

\----

Along with the daily training with Blinky, Wren found herself rushing about Trollmarket to help with the wedding plans. Due to wed late summer -- just a short month away -- there was much to be done to make it a celebration that no one would forget. The bride of the whole affair figured her rush _away_ from the altar would make it memorable enough, but had to bite back such commentary as she picked out preferred foods for the feast, and double-checking that the streets would be open for the amount of people who would attend. 

A push from her side brought Wren out of her thoughts on the matter. She stood there, not bothering to hide the bitterly annoyed look on her face. Bagdwella giddily moved about her, taking measurements for her ceremony attire in her shop. While she wore her usual top and skirt, the Amulet was stashed safely in her apron, which sat on the table next to her travel bag.

At least she was alone, away from the gaze of a certain blue warrior. He stood guard outside the shop, likely antsy at the thought of his bride getting prettied up for the big day.

“Now, what should we use?” Bagdwella pondered, assessing the color, shape, and tone of Wren’s body. Glug spoke up.

“Gold! Like her eyes!” 

Rika, also sitting in the corner with her as she fiddled with a traditional crystal crown, smiled. “That would be lovely!”

“Oooh, I have just the thing, I’ll be right back!” Bagdwella giggled as she went to the back. Wren slumped a little on the stool she stood on.

“This is really happening, huh?” she relented. Glug clapped her hands.

“It is! What good fortune!” she exclaimed. 

Rika perceptively nodded. “It is good fortune for you to be wedded so soon, even if you worry about how fast it’s happening, and at your age, no less. With everything that’s happened, it would be good for the two of you.”

“Yeah well...do I have to dress up about it?” Wren asked. “I could just wear my Daylight armor…”

“No! Special day, special dress.” Glug asserted. 

“Speaking of which~!” Bagdwella returned with a sing-songy voice. In her arms lay a simple strapless dress, spun with soft golden-yellow fabric, and split open on the sides, up to the hip. The edges were embroidered with a simple troll-type stitch, using a near-white yellow thread. It was floor length as well, looking to be something formerly human but re-made for troll use. Wren hated that she loved it.

“Oh, wow.” she murmured. Bagdwella roughly shoved the dress over her head, and once it was on, began making the proper adjustments. 

“Perfection!” she proclaimed as she worked. She only had to pull back the fabric a bit around her chest, and the whole thing was able to show off her figure. “All I need to do is make a corset back and it’s good to go. Wait until they see you in this!”

“Just in time to try this on, too.” Rika said, standing up to place her finished crown on Wren’s head. It was more of a circlet really, though it was heavy enough to be a crown with the number of bright yellow crystals on it. Wren’s wavy hair had been let loose, falling to the middle of her back, and the women ooed and awed over their successful project. 

“I told you I’d find something for her.” Bagdwella smugly said. “Now Rika, the crown is pretty, but she’ll need more jewelry for--”

She was cut off, when the stool Glug had been sitting on was snatched away as if by magic, causing her to fall onto the floor.

“Ah! Ghost stool!” she yelped. Rika hurried to help her up. Wren’s nose twitched. Sniffing the air, even her weak nose recognized the scent immediately.

“Gnome!” she announced. Quickly Wren was taken out of her Ceremony attire and grabbed her Amulet, not wanting that to be stolen. All around them, random items began to get snatched away.

“Rogue gnome! In my own shop!” Bagdwella cried out, watching in a panic as more of her precious goods disappeared. 

“Hold onto belongings!” Glug shouted back, clinging to her own bag. Wren activated her Amulet and ignored the fascination from her friends for seeing her like that for the first time. Other than the Hero’s Forge, Wren never donned the armor.

“Okay you little rodent! Show yourself!” she said, trying to sound tough. There was a sound of some kind of guitar playing, and turning to face it, found the gnome in question perched up high. He was, indeed, playing on a miniature, crude version of a guitar, vocalizing with the tune.

Wren perked up. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

“Don’t be enchanted by its whimsy!” Bagdwella warned. “And to think, the glue traps were working perfectly until now!”

“What in Deya’s grace is going on?” Draal boomed, rushing inside when he realized something was wrong. He sniffed the air, smelling the gnome just as Wren had.

“Gnome?”

“Gnome!” Wren affirmed, jumping after it and her armor clunking onto the floor. It scuttled away across the floor with a victorious laugh, having missed her hands. The others jumped down too, failing to catch it. Draal tried stomping around, but proved too slow. 

“Bushigal!” he shouted, frustration building up. Eventually the critter jumped nimbly to the higher shelves, grabbing onto a container of sparkling gems with immense greed. 

“Hehehehe!” the gnome giggled defiantly, shaking the jar to antagonize them.

“No! I need that for the wedding!” Bagdwella said in a fit. She threw a basket from her table at it, but missed. More things were thrown at the gnome, but all missed as it managed to sneak away behind a large dressing cabinet. Draal pushed it to the side, and revealed a large hole going deep into the rock.

“That’s how it keeps getting in here!” Bagdwella growled. “Oh Wren, please help me get rid of it! It’s going to mess with my work on your wedding day.”

Wren had half a mind to let the gnome do its dirty work, but reluctantly accepted her request for help. “Okay, fine, I’ll think of something. But I don’t know how to draw it out again…”

“He seems to like shiny things.” Rika said thoughtfully. “He only started bothering the shop when Bagdwella took in the shipment of crystals.”

“That is true. But I can’t risk losing anything else.” she argued. 

“You’ll lose even more things for sure if nothing is done.” Wren argued back. “Rika, the crown.”

She chuckled, handing it over. “Sorry about Draal seeing it already.”

Draal smirked, and let Wren do her work. They all migrated to the front of the shop, crouched low and watching carefully as their Trollhunter kneeled before the hole in the wall.

“Hey little guy...I hear you like shiny things...but, whatever you do, DON’T take this crown, okay? It’s veeery important to me.” she teased, stepping back and placing the crown onto the ground below the hole. Draal could have snorted at how ridiculous it was.

It took a few more minutes of Wren proclaiming at how pretty it was, and how much she loved it, before the gnome finally drew out of its hole. It chittered, looking down to where the crown was. He hummed, as if thinking of his next move.

Wren was perfectly still, but poised to pounce. Just as it bent its head out, she snatched at it with a triumphant cackle.

“Gotcha!” she shouted. But in her hands was not the gnome, just his hat. Leaving her with a very angry, bare-horned gnome. Her eyes widened. 

“ _Craggle-snacks._ ” she cursed. She yelped when it attacked her face in a righteous fury, causing her to fall backwards and cover her head with her arms.

“Get it off get it off get it off!” she squealed. Draal got up and slapped it hard, causing it to fly across the room and hit the wall with a rough thud. As it struggled to sit up and calibrate itself, Glug shoved it into a bag.

“Got it!” she shouted. The women hollered happily, Wren standing up and rubbing her sore nose. 

“That...was not what I expected.” Wren sighed, placing the pointed red hat next to her work apron. “Good riddance.”

“Now it’s time for rule number two.” Draal said, holding up three fingers. Noticing it was wrong, he lowered the third one. “Finish the fight!”

“Oh.” Wren said, the bag with the drowsy gnome handed over to her. She took it and turned off her armor. The Amulet was placed back into her apron, which she tied on quickly.

“Is it really necessary to kill the little guy? I mean, it is just a gnome.” she asked, holding out the bag again.

“ _Yes._ Consider it your first lesson on rule number two.” Draal insisted. Before she could say anything, Blinky and Argh rushed in.

“Master Wren! We heard there was some sort of fight transpiring here?” Blinky said with concern. 

“Just this.” she replied, holding out the bag. “Caught a rogue gnome for Bagdwella.”

“Ah, good work then!” Blinky said with genuine enthusiasm. “Now, all you have to do is take care of it.”

“About that…” she hesitated. “Uh, can I do it alone?”

Draal grew firm. “You aren’t to be alone anywhere, not until you improve in your training.”

“Okay, maybe not _alone_ alone.” Wren conceded. “But, you know, it’s my first kill and all…”

Blinky, assuming that her soft nature needed room to figure out where to place her ruthlessness, nodded with a smile. “I understand Master Wren. Of course Draal is to escort you wherever you feel necessary, though some room to handle the situation -- alone -- could benefit your experience in finishing this first mission.”

Draal still didn’t like that answer all too well, but went along with it. Blinky bid them farewell and they left towards the upper caverns.

“Not the ones near the surface?” Draal said with a disapproving grunt. “Things both above and below can get into those places.”

“Which is why _I_ will wear Daylight and _you_ will stand guard.” Wren said with surety. He hummed with doubt but they continued towards their destination. Once they reached the outer entrance, she stopped him by shoving the bag into his chest for him to hold.

“No further, my warrior.” she commanded, putting on her armor with the Amulet. 

“Are you sure?” Draal asked, clearly not enjoying it. Wren took the bag from him and entered the cavern.

“Just wait for me, will you?” she called back, disappearing into the shadows. After a while, faster than Draal assumed, Wren returned as she got out of her armor.

“See? No problem. Easy peasy.” Wren assured him, walking a little faster than normal. “Let’s go get something to eat and talk business. My place or yours?”

Draal normally would have questioned her further. Not only was she acting a little too eager to leave, but for someone who cried over honorable deaths in the arena: Wren was acting as if nothing were wrong in the world with what she did. It was abnormal and raised alarms in his head.

But the way she turned her head to look back at him; her eyes sparking and innocent; hair tossed over her shoulder so as to show the small of her back; the granite-like freckles on her nose pronounced in the low lights around them...well, Draal was a victim. He took in the view and said, “Your place. It’s nicer.”

And so the Trollhunter took her Guardian far from the near-surface cavern, where a certain little gnome made an eager escape to the human world above him -- trollkind none-the-wiser that Wren failed her first mission because she, once again, chose mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanons YEET
> 
> Armor -- I've seen fanart of Claire and Nomura as Trollhunters, and they always had some kind of magical looking fabric covering the front and back of their bottoms. I love it since it's very St. Joan of Arc-esque. Even though they don't show it in the show, I like to think that is a special thing the lady hunters get.
> 
> Training -- More or less the same as with Jim, only less awkward because 1) Wren is already a troll and has worked with weaponry before, and 2) she doesn't have the whole "NOT A TROLL!!!" issue that Jim has to work around with Draal and the others. She's a runt and weaker than the average troll but still stronger than most humans by comparison. her dancing background is of use here as well, as I promised it would previously lol
> 
> Wedding planning -- If you are kin to an Elder, you are having a big fancy wedding. I like to think trolls are more subdued about wedding ceremonies but the more prominent figures of their society make a bigger deal of it, especially if it's a Trollhunting daughter of someone like Vendel being wed to a famed warrior. Also, trolls like to party. So like, yeah. Much feasting is prepared beforehand. The dress idea of trolls reusing human things seemed like a great way for them to make special occassion wear, as trolls don't seem adept with finecrafting anything that isn't weaponry, gem stones, or leather. Hence, upcycling human clothing.
> 
> Rogue Gnome -- Gnome Chompsky! I love him. The incident with him goes more smoothly here because Wren has more helping hands around, plus she is more familiar in handling small creatures. And while he lives like in the show, this won't be the last we see of him ;)


	8. Above and Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Trollmarket prepares for a big wedding and unknown runaway bride, friendships form on the surface world that will cross paths with the new Trollhunter sooner than anyone knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet Jim and the gang, yay! I had such a hard time trying to introduce them in a way that didn't feel awkward, but I promise the growing pains here don't stay long.

“Blinky has charged me with your training today.” Draal said, looking up as they entered the Forge. At the top with the other former Trollhunters, stood his own father, Kanjigar. He always made a small, sort-of prayer when entering, asking his father to help guide him as the Trollhunter’s Guardian. “As such, I say we spar. You need to be fighting with a partner more.”

“This whole fighting thing, though...I really hope I can handle it.” Wren admitted, now that they were out of ear shot of other trolls. Sparring was one thing, but thoughts of rule number two bounced in her head. 

Especially after the gnome incident nearly a month ago, Wren was unsure if she would be willing to kill another living thing. Blinky had done so much to teach her tricks and tips of the trade, of pushing her limits in the Forge to prove her mettle, but she had yet to actually kill. More than once her trainer noted how lucky she was that Bular himself had gone eerily quiet on the surface, doubting her ability to fulfill rule two. The ceremony was just a couple days away now, and still Wren did not have the guts to be a true warrior like her husband-to-be. Draal did not miss the uncertainty written on her face.

“It’s true that you lack the tenacity and will to be merciless.” he said, looking over the weapons rack for an appropriate sparring tool. He decided to go with a Parlok spear and grabbed it. “But in a fight, you can not afford any moment of weakness or hesitation. Such a thing can leave you dead.”

Draal’s tone had grown more serious as he spoke, and strained. Wren’s shoulders sagged a little.

“I know that I’m...not trollish. But do I really have to kill?”

He breathed out his nose, looking more at his spear than at Wren. “Does it bother you that much?”

“Very much so.” Wren shared, looking down. She looked back up to say something else, but gasped. Draal had snarled and thrusted the spear at her. Wren squeaked and jumped back.

“What in Merlin’s name!” she cried out as he continued to attack her. She slipped backwards as she retreated, and rolled effortlessly out of his line of fire when he thrusted the spear into the floor.

“I can’t be soft on you, Wren!” he shouted, continuing his attack. “You need to be ruthless! More ruthless than even Bular! Do you want to die? Leave Vendel mourning for you because you were too scared to give your enemy so much as a _bruise_ to simper over?!”

Another jab and this time Wren rolled onto her feet by kicking against the spear. She hurriedly took out her Amulet and transformed into her armor. She was not fast enough this time, as Draal manage to land a hit, cause her to stumble back into the wall. He used this moment of distraction to press the length of the spear against her throat, pushing up as Wren dangled. His face was an inch from hers, and she got a good look at the wild mix of emotions in his orange-yellow eyes.

“I can not allow you to die, Wren.” he growled. “And I will do whatever it takes to train you into the warrior you have been called to be!”

“Kinda hard when...I can’t breathe…” Wren managed to get out, which only caused Draal to push against her more.

“Think, Wren! Your weapon is an extension of your body, your body an extension of your eyes! Your armor allows you to manipulate it to your will. So will your weapon -- your entire being -- into defeating me!”

Wren breathed in short rasps now, trying to think of a way to get out of his grip. If this was bad, then no wonder he was well-feared in actual battle! Knowing only how to call Daylight, she did so with the hand out of his line of sight, and lightly pricked the end of it to Draal’s chest. The snarl turned into a smile.

“Now that’s fighting!” he said, backing up finally. Wren dropped to her knees and rubbed her throat. 

“Yikes,” was all she responded with. Draal helped her up. 

“If you didn’t like what I did to you, then _fight. Back._ ” he grilled. “Fight with your fear, with your whole body and all the wits you have, if you wish to survive.”

Wren breathed in and out, looking over her reflection on the Sword of Daylight’s blade. Her long hair was in a single, thick plait now, though some strands of hair had fallen out from the sudden attack. In that reflection, she saw the round face of a troll who hardly raised so much as a firm slap to another living thing. Yet...Draal was right. She would have to get over it, become someone new. As Blinky once told her long ago, she needed to find something worth fighting for, enough to kill if need be.

She couldn’t be Wren anymore, if she hoped to survive living on her own away from Trollmarket. But if she couldn’t be Wren, would Draal still love her, or would Vendel recognize his own daughter, once she returned home? Would her friends not accept her anymore? Even if they were happy with the prospect of her acting more trollish now, that didn’t mean they would continue to like the end result of whatever journey lay ahead for her. 

Draal raised her chin to look at him. “My sweet, the Amulet chose you for a reason. I...can’t say I know why yet. But I want to help you find out why. We’ll find out, together. I’m here for you, for this. I promised you that.”

Wren smiled gently, despite his promise fueling her guilt; but then the smile turned devilish as a silly trick came to mind. Draal’s eyes widened when he felt the sword prick his chest again.

“ _Gotcha._ ” she said with a wink. He sighed in a failed attempt to hide his own grin.

“Well, it’s a start.” Draal conceded, accepting his little surprise defeat. “But you’re not leaving this Forge until you dance as smoothly with that sword as you do on the market square.”

Wren made a stance, holding out her sword with a renewed sense of determination. 

“Challenge accepted.”

\----

Work journal? Check. Maps? Check. A bit of money and trinkets for trading? Check.

There wasn’t a lot that Wren could take with her, she knew. It had to all fit in her travel bag, and stash it behind something secure in the sewers. This run away would not work so well if she had nothing to aid her outside of Trollmarket.

Wren swallowed, grabbing her Amulet now. This particular item, she was going to keep on her person: it was hers anyhow, and there was no way the bride was going to let go of something that would give her the protection and edge needed to fight back. Not just for escape, but also for survival. She set it into her apron pocket, held up the full bag, and then snuck out to hide the last evidence she had for her escape plans.

It wasn’t as hard as she thought to hide the bag. Of course she could not go away for long; while climbing around buildings and back ways, Wren saw Draal walking with Vendel – slowly, thankfully – towards Heartstone. So, the gem-cleaver-turned-warrior rushed to the sewers outside of the gyre station, dumped the bag in a crate behind a boulder, and rushed back into Trollmarket.

Wren plopped back onto her cave floor from the window she climbed through just as there was a knock.

“Wren, are you available?” came Vendel’s voice. She quickly sat herself up and evened out her breathing.

“Yes, Papa, come on in.” she piped, a little to eager for someone who had been hiding away all day. That earned Wren a curious look from her father, though Draal was none-the-wiser. He was practically beaming.

“So, what calls for the visit?” Wren asked innocently enough as the door closed behind them. She turned to grab drinks from her little kitchen. “I have fresh glug if you want it.”

“Just tea for me, my dear.” Vendel said, happy enough to see his daughter not acting ill-mannered. Draal, of course, accepted his tankard gleefully.

Vendel sat at the table with Wren and Draal, once the tea was made. He fiddled a bit with his staff, not quite touching his cup. “Wren, dear. I…I wanted to give you my final blessings, before the wedding.”

Oh, that was unexpected. “Really?” she said with genuine surprise. Draal watched carefully and pushed aside his tankard.

“Yes, really.” Vendel continued. “We all know the marriage has been rushed, and I’ve wondered myself if I was wrong to do that to you.”

He sighed, looking into his cup. “But I know it shouldn’t be wrong. I only do it to protect you. I failed to protect you as a child; my only wish is to see you cared for and safe as you are today. I trust Draal with that charge, to be there for you in ways I can not.”

Wren, unsure of what to say to that, sipped her tea. Draal sat up a little with pride.

“It is an honor that you trust me with your daughter, Vendel.” he told him. “Nothing will come to her without my say-so.”

She drank some more. At this point, Wren knew she was leaving this all behind anyway; let them have their time to speak. Vendel must have caught onto her frantic nature, for he continued.

“Wren, please, look at me.” he said, placing a hand on hers. “You are young. Grown, but young still. This world is harsh for people like you, and it will be harsher still as Trollhunter, even with all the training in the world that Blinkous can provide.”

Wren did look at him, trying to push back at the guilt that grew inside her again. She placed her other hand onto the one covering hers.

“Papa…I’ll be fine. No matter what happens, I’ll do what I have to to be safe.”

It wasn’t a lie, at least. After thanking him for the blessing, Vendel left to give Draal and Wren their own moment.

“I meant what I said.” Draal told her, now much more affectionate and close. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I won’t lose you like I lost my father.”

Wren couldn’t help but smile up at him, rubbing her nose with his. Goodness, she was going to miss him. She loved his desire to protect her, to help her in this journey: but she needed time, damn it. Had Draal not insisted on moving back the wedding date to so soon, he would not be facing the unknown threat of a runaway bride. 

“You won’t ever lose me.” she said, voice cracking a little from the inner turmoil. _I’ll come back one day, I promise. I love you so much. Don’t think that I am leaving because I hate you. Please don’t do that to yourself._

Draal purred and brought her up off her feet, wrapping his arms around her as he pushed his face into the crook of her neck. “Tomorrow, my sweet. Just one more day. Then its us against this world, together.”

Wren let herself be wrapped in the moment, wanting their last night together to be something for the both of them to recall in fondness. They stood that way for a while, taking in their scents and leaving their scent on the other, lots of purring between them. Draal himself had a hard time giving a final good bye once the time came, attacking her with head rubs and trying to push back in with a devilish grin when Wren lead him out the door. She laughed, almost forgetting that this would be the last of that playfulness for a long while.

“Seriously, go! We have a long day tomorrow, my warrior.” Wren laughed. The door was cracked open slightly, both of them trying to move it the other way. Draal managed to poke his nose through with a sharp exhale of air, causing his nose ring to jingle against the door frame. She giggled, nuzzled it one last time, and said, “Be well, Draal.”

“See you soon, my sweet.” he said in a low voice. Stealing one last nose nuzzle, he let her close the door all the way, and she heard the slow footsteps leaving outside. Wren leaned against the door for a while, taking in a deep breath.

Well, maybe there was one last thing for her to do. Fetching a piece of good parchment and a quill, Wren sat on the floor at her low-lying desk, and began writing something to protect Draal’s heart, if not her own.

It was going to be a long day before the ceremony with this on her shoulders.

—-

“Look at you!” Rika said with a delightful laugh. Wren had walked out from behind a screen where she put on her golden wedding dress. Per Bagdwella’s request, she also wore bright yellow, thick armbands of crystal on her upper arms and wrists, as well as on her ankles. It felt a bit much, but at least it matched the rest of the wedding: all of her friends came together to make it one large, near-festival of a celebration, and she hated that she had to run from it all.

Rika walked up to Wren while the others cooed over the bride and placed the matching crown on her head.

“Ready.” she said softly. The smile died down a little but was still there, if bittersweet. “If only Lora could be here…”

“She would be at the feast already, causing a scene for my sake.” Wren half-joked. Rika chuckled and touched foreheads with her.

“If only she could, but I am honored to be in her place today.” Rika sighed. Stepping back, Bagdwella and Glug also came forward.

“You ready?” Glug asked. Wren tied her Amulet to the thin decorative leather belt around her waist, and nodded. To them it was a decoration, meant to showcase her new role and status as a warrior marrying _another_ warrior; but for Wren, it was the means to her freedom. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

—-

“Come on, Pepperjack! Say it again! What’d you see?” A tall boy taunted. 

The current victim, who went by Eli, was a shrimpy boy, a 12 year old who skipped a couple grades into high school. It was no secret that Eli was obsessed with the supernatural and unexplained, so this made the kid an easy target for the more cruel students at the school. The poor boy was overheard talking about a scrappy little creature he saw, calling it a “gnome”, which sparked the situation he found himself in now.

“If I do you’ll just make fun of me for it, you always do, Steve.” he half-whined, holding his books close to him and shrinking back. As seriously as he took his paranormal research, the taunting over it always made him feel silly that he did such things to begin with.

“And? I could use the laugh.” Steve sneered. His friends behind him snickered. Jim, a boy his age but nowhere near as much of a jerk, stepped forward.

“C’mon dude, just leave him alone.” he said. Steve turned to face Jim, scowling now. 

“And what? Slap me with those girly hands?” 

“That’d be enough to take you down, I think.” Jim said with a smirk. The crowd growing around them chuckled. Steve grew frustrated now.

“I don’t like being sassed, Lake.” he spat, pointing a finger at him. “So if you value your life, you’ll step away and let me do my thing.”

“Maybe you should ‘do your thing’ with someone your own size, unless you only pick on kids like Eli because you’re too scared of a fair fight.” Jim challenged. Toby, his shorter, stouter friend, panicked and pulled on his arm.

“Dude! Are you crazy? You can’t take him on!”

“No, I mean it. I’m sick of your crap, Steve.” Jim continued. Perhaps it was the frustration he felt with the humdrum of daily life and the stress of looking out for his overworked mother, but the normally quiet boy had grown more bold. Steve noticed, and did not like it one bit. The bully curled up a fist to Jim’s face, grabbing the front of his jacket. By now Toby watched, frozen in anticipation, while the crowd began to urge on the oncoming fight.

“You asked for it, buttsnack.” he sneered, drawing back his fist. Jim curled up a fist of his own, ready to sneak in a punch to the underside of Steve’s chin, when they were interrupted. 

“Palchuck!” shouted Coach Lawrence. He was a large, broad shouldered man, with a neat, bushy mustache. Hands rested firmly on his hips, his eyes narrowing at what he knew to be the start of a fight. “You too Lake! I don’t want funny business in my halls!”

Steve immediately let go of Jim, putting on a friendly smile. “No prob, Coach. We were just, uh, practicing for the play.”

Jim gave Steve an unamused look. Auditions hadn’t even started yet.

“Whatever. Just get to class or your butts are giving me 30 push ups!” Coach Lawrence threatened. He turned on his heel, and just as he did, the school bell rang. Steve made a threatening motion to Jim just before he gave Eli one last shove and walked to his class with friends. Jim and Toby helped Eli with his books while the crowd dispersed for class.

“Thanks for helping, Jim.” Eli said quietly. “Not a lot of people can stand up to Steve like that. It was cool of you to...you know…”

“Hey, Jimbo’s the best!” Toby chuckled, ignoring the fact that he tried to stop the fight initially. “But uh, mind helping us with something?”

“Shoot.” he said, holding his books again with a smile.

“Do you know anything about Shakespeare?” Jim asked, “Like, acting-wise?”

“I love Shakespeare! You’re interested in trying out for the school play?” he said. “I’m going for Romeo!”

“Same.” Jim said bashfully, thinking of the girl he liked trying out for Juliet. “Claire told me that tryouts were today.”

“We can go together! As friends!” Eli said with excitement, not even caring that Jim was auditioning for the same role. Toby gave a so-so response, but Jim smiled and shook on it, eager to get all the help he could. 

“As friends then.” Jim agreed with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanons order up!!!
> 
> Wren's training -- as mentioned in the last chapter, her training goes more smoothly than Jim's had for multiple reasons. Still, it's in Draal's nature to challenge, especially with his pre-wedding jitters.
> 
> Eli -- When I first saw the show, I legit thought he was a twelve year old. *shrugs* I thought it would make for interesting dynamics in my fic, so I went with that headcanon. JIM AND TOBY ARE GOOD BIG BROTHERS, PASS IT ON.


	9. Run, Girl, Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren makes a successful break to the world outside of Trollmarket, her family and friends haphazardly start the manhunt for her, and Eli shows his new friends a creature not of this world.

_Centuries ago_

“Oh look at the little thing! How precious!” Bagdwella cooed. Wren had waddled up to her stand, delicate, tiny hands reaching up for something that caught her golden eye. Draal, who had been there to pick up an order for Blinky, snorted. 

“I’m surprised she’s alive, let alone walking.” he said, not caring about her one way or another. “Anyway, Blinky says he’s been billed already?”

“He most certainly has not.” Bagdwella huffed, though she handed him the jar of goods. Neither noticed Wren as she followed the jar, and went to Draal’s side. “But do tell him he better have that scorch beetle repellent ready next time I see his sorry rumpus.”

“Will do.” Draal smirked, and walked away towards the library where the historian kept to his work. As he got closer, the streets became less crowded, more secluded, and thus -- more quiet. This allowed him to hear the tiny pitter patter of toddling feet just behind him. He stopped and turned on his heel, facing his stalker.

Wren squealed happily at being noticed and held her hands up again. 

“Mine!” she insisted, gesturing to the jar. Draal rolled his eyes and carried on. At least it was not another gnome. She followed him inside, where Wren kept up her insistent litany.

“Mine! Mine, mine.” Then it grew sing songy. “Mine mine miiiiine! Mine mine miiiiine!”

“I say, Draal! Give the girl what’s she asking for already!” 

The voice startled Wren enough to look up. It was deep and rich, though sounded mildly irritated. Still ignored by Draal now that she was finally quiet, she climbed up the pile of books to reach a desk where the mystery troll sat. 

At the top was Blinky, the four armed, many-eyed troll who had found her not that long ago. Wren babbled and lightly pat her hands together in delight, recognizing the friendly face. Much to his chargin, Wren sat down right in front of Blinky, on his desk, and atop the parchment of instructions he had been referring to. 

“Not now, you troublesome trike!” he snapped, unusually impatient and short in that moment. Wren gave a yelp of rebellion as he grabbed her by the scruff and set her on the floor behind him. A hearty pat pushed her in another direction; distracted by the many things Blinky hoarded in the library, Wren forgot the offense done to her and waddled away further, going “dah dah dah!” all the way around. 

“What’s it for anyway? Iron shavings are hardly cheap. I’m surprised Bagdwella had them.” Draal noted. Normally such things bored him, but the metal was a rarity, and for Blinky to possess it now meant something was afoot.

“I am not surprised, myself. RotGuts informed me that she bought off the last of their stock.” Blinky noted, ears flicking in irritation as distant childish squeals and bumps went on in the background. “Our Trollhunter has requested me to experiment on miniature gaggletack designs. Vendel felt it out of his realm of study, so he handed over the blueprints to me.”

Draal said nothing. A small sting always went up his chest whenever he heard of his father working with someone else. Kanjigar the Courageous refused his son any direct involvement with his work and it gave the son great jealousy to see others do it in Draal’s place. As Blinky droned on about the impossibility of the intriguing theory of miniature gaggletacks -- as well as what their possible use may be for Kanjigar -- Draal felt fervent yet soft pats on his leg. 

It was Wren, of course. Somehow she snuck her way to the troll, chewing her fingers on one hand and hitting him with another. Wide eyes looked up into his, making her grin and hit him even harder. Draal gave a half-growl kind of snort to scare her off, but instead she laughed in absolute delight.

“As I was saying, Kanjigar wants it by tomorrow. Tomorrow! And I can’t get anything done if she is in the way!”

“Way way way!” Wren said, swinging her hips around now in a little dance and singing to imitate this new, fun word. “Waaaay way way!”

“Now aren’t you talkative?” Blinky grumbled, but with an amused grin. “Argh, do you mind?”

“On it.” rumbled the larger krubera troll. He grabbed her by her dress with his mouth and carried her out. 

“I should go myself. Things to do.” Draal mentioned, but only half-heartedly. A part of him wished Blinky would ask for his help, even if magic was his sorest subject after arithmetic; alas the scholar had no need for Draal’s help, and so he left without much fuss. He moped a little, stalking out of the library and down a lonely street, hearing the little pitter patter of feet once again. 

“Away with you, runt!” he yelled. Draal watched as Wren paused, part way out of an alleyway where she hid after Argh dropped her off, and looked sheepish. Her ears fell downwards and she whined a little. 

“P’ease?” she asked, walking out again. It was getting somewhat cooler down in the cavern, reflecting the freezing night above. Too young to ask for companionship and a warm place to stay, Wren used her one-word code for help instead, and without much fortune. Draal lightly kicked her away.

“Bother a matron if you so please.” he snorted at her. “I am not your nursemaid.” 

Wren whined again, but more quietly this time. She forlornly watched her big blue friend leave, and found herself alone. 

It was big and scary for the little toddling. She chewed on her fingers again on her favored hand, darting her eyes about her anxiously. Hiding was all well and good, but she wanted to hide somewhere warm, cozy, and safe. Recalling that the Heartstone was comfortable, Wren instinctually followed the energy of its magic to where it was. By then, the rush had died down, and most people went back to their business. Vendel was among the crowds, and that left the Heartstone chamber empty, leaving guards outside of it to keep an eye on things while he walked about in society. 

Wren did not know this, so she rushed up the stairs to get into the chamber and find the friendly, older troll who had originally healed her. The guards scoffed and patted her away with the flat sides of their axes. 

“Shoo! Get out!” they rebuked. By now Wren was crying, but did so and slid back down the stairs again. Sniffling and whining, she crawled into a large, cracked opening in the wall beside the Heartstone, where some abandoned junk was pushed aside. 

Normally Wren would have looked thoroughly over the things in there, curious as she was, but she was in desperate need of a nap. There was a crusty blanket under some stray pieces of wood and rope, and she climbed underneath them to get atop the sorry excuse for a nest. 

It would do, for now. Hopefully tomorrow, her friends would be just as kind to her. As Wren fell into a fitful sleep, she dreamed of one of them bringing her in, to lay in their own nest and eat from their own kitchens. 

One day, she hoped, even if it were not as soon as she would have needed.

\----

_The Day of the Ceremony_

Draal tapped one foot in a nervous tick. In all honesty, he knew he didn’t have to feel so worried. Preparations had gone surprisingly smooth for both the ceremony and the feasting for later; he had a wonderful evening before with Wren, and everyone was in good spirits.

That confidence crumbled, however, when he received a letter from Wren herself, found at the foot of his cave home when he awoke. A note was tied to the rolled parchment, and it read:

_For Draal -- Open only after the wedding’s end. May it give your heart peace._

_\--Wren_

Draal had half a mind to open it as soon as he received it. What kind of message was that for a nervous groom, and trained for constant vigilance no less? It sat in a pocket now, within his leather kilt. He began to fiddle with the cloak wrapped around his back and chest when Vendel gave him a look for the foot tapping. Argh, coming in behind from the side steps into the central plaza, was more amused than annoyed at his nervousness, and rumbled behind him.

“On her way, don’t worry.” 

That was all he wanted to hear. Draal visibly relaxed and watched as the crowds around the bottom of the steps settled and quieted. Blinky rushed to Argh’s side as it started, further down from the center. 

And there she was, sparking dress, crown, and all. There was a parting further back, where the crowd began to depart to the sides, as Wren walked up, alone. Her bridal party stayed behind, performing traditional music and singing to announce her arrival from the start of the path. The closer Wren made it to the middle, the more and more the crowd that joined in the singin, until it was nearing a reverberating choir throughout Trollmarket.

Draal almost didn’t breathe, his eyes never leaving her. Was she scared? On edge like him? He wanted his bride next to him already, to feel her hand on his arm, to touch and know that their lives were becoming a formidable bond that nothing could take from them.

Wren herself was filled with static, terrified and excited about what she was about to do. A little part of her, the one who loved Draal, began to second guess the whole plan. Even the side of her that couldn’t wait to run wanted this: to marry him, to be with Draal and perhaps even have whelps when the time came. 

But her vision of that life could not and would not happen, not with the way they had all been restraining her. And Wren wanted that to change. She wanted a life with him on her own terms.

She was nearing to the center now where Draal and Vendel waited for her. A glance to the sidelines showed Blinky and Argh giving her eager smiles and a thumbs up. 

_Enough looking, more doing,_ Wren said to herself. It felt surreal now: her quickening pace that turned into a run; the faces of delight turning into confusion and concern when the bride began outright bolting to the altar; but true panic did not settle into Draal until he watched as she ripped her Amulet from her hip, and rang out a shout.

“For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is Mine to Command!” 

The surprise flash of blinding blue light gave Wren the distraction needed to leap over their heads, rolling gracefully to her feet before dashing off. The singing from the crowd broke off immediately and was replaced by gasps and screams.

Vendel shouted in the distance for her to be followed; the infamous sound of crystal grinding against hard ground alerted Wren that Draal was rolling after her. 

“Deya’s Grace!” she huffed under her breath, making her way through the empty zig zag of streets. Wren slid into a sharp turn and looked around her surroundings. There was an overhang, covering a rickety pile of barrels. It would have to do.

“Ha!” Wren heaved with a shout. Daylight materialized into her hand, and mid-jump, used the sword to cut down the overhang. She twisted in the air, pushing her feet against the building, and gripped onto the roof’s ledge to spin onto the top of it. Without seeing whether this little stunt worked to slow down Draal, Wren rushed off towards the sewers, sneaking down to the back alley. 

Another minute of rushing for her life, and Wren realized that the stunt _did_ work. Shouts and mayhem echoed in the background, no doubt everyone in a flurry wondering what under earth happened to the bride: but there were no sounds of Draal or anyone else close behind her. She doubled back a few times just in case.

Wren threw herself to the shadows eventually, hoping that Fate would allow them to remain ignorant long enough for her to be safely away from Trollmarket.

\----

Toby stood behind the curtains, to the stage’s side. True to his word, Eli helped Jim out with some of the script for the part of Romeo, and he auditioned now. Ms. Janeth -- their teacher and director of the play -- actually stood and clapped after Jim finished. 

Funnily enough, Eli himself wasn’t there. As soon as he did his own audition, the boy ran off to the lockers and looked as if to disappear. Oh well, weird kids did weird things; Toby wasn’t one to question it.

“Dude, you were on fire!” Toby said once Jim walked over. He smiled.

“I hope so!” he said with a nervous laugh. “Man, I really owe Eli one.”

“Maaaaybe you should check in with your Juliet, hm?” Toby said, elbowing Jim lightly in the ribs. Jim knotted his brows in confusion, looking over into the audience seating where he found Claire waving from her seat. She had her script in hand, smiling. Jim would have stood there, staring, had Toby not pushed him out.

“C’mon dude, talk to her!” he whispered harshly. Jim gave a nervous chuckle as he did so, only stumbling off the stage. Toby smugly nodded his head, happy that this plan worked out in his friend’s favor. A sudden tap to his shoulder had him turn around, facing Eli now.

“Hey, uh, where you been?” Toby asked hesitantly asked. Eli had that look on him, the one that screamed ‘I’m going to talk about something weird now.’

“We’ve been friends for a while now, right?” Eli asked, hesitant himself now. His wiry hands wrung together, and his eyes shifted around him slightly. 

“For like, two days, maybe.” Toby said flatly.

“Well I need you to promise me that you won’t freak out. This is top secret stuff!” the younger boy huffed, taking the backpack off of his back and holding it out. The zipper was pulled back, though he stopped part way.

“You promise? No freaking out?” Eli asked. Toby rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Yes, I promise, no freaking out.” Toby replied, looking back to the bag he now fully opened. At first, there was nothing other than a few notebooks and lunch box. But then they shifted. Toby paused, glancing at Eli’s hands to see if they moved and caused the objects to move. They were perfectly still when the contents shifted again. His eyes widened.

“Uh.”

“ _Don’t freak out._ ” Eli said firmly.

“I dunno if I won’t anymore.” Toby said nervously. “Did you bring a rat to school or some--”

But then Toby yelped, jumping back so far he was in view at the edge of the stage exit. The only thing Jim saw was Toby being pulled back in by a shrimpy little hand with another yelp.

“What was that about?” Claire asked, nitpicking a bit with the hair clips holding up her dark brown bob. Jim could only shrug and focus back on their conversation.

“I’m freaking out, I’m freaking out, I’m freaking out!” Toby panicked, looking at a sharp-toothed, angry gnome-looking creature. It’s little bulbous nose flared with its snarl, and chattered at him with seething rage. Clawed hands, as tiny as they were, attempted to reach out at him and looked just as dangerous as his teeth.

“I told you not to freak out!” Eli whined as he pushed the gnome back into the bag and zipped it shut. “Now everyone is gonna look!”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, not fine! Aaaaah this is crazy!” Toby said, trying to steady his breathing. “Was that...a gnome rat? A mutant rat thing?”

“Just a gnome I think. They’re a type of creeper, been seeing these little guys everywhere in the forest but I actually caught one this time!” Eli said with an odd mix of professionalism and pride. Toby froze.

“I’m sorry -- you see these things everywhere? You hunted one down? What?!”

“Look, I can explain more at my place. Bring Jim too.” Eli said as he put his backpack back on. “I trust you guys.”

Toby opened and closed his mouth. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? And would Jim even come along? Claire looked to be taking up his time, which had been their intention to begin with. Eventually, Toby sighed and took out his phone.

“Okay, _fine,_ I’ll bring Jim along. But I am taking a picture of that thing to show him!”

\----

_My Warrior –_

_I did not do what I did to hurt you, or the others. It pains me to even do it, but so much has happened so fast since we began to court, that I feel unable to do what I feel is right, with no one to listen to my wishes. I trust you to love and protect me, but I am not quite ready for the life you envision for us. Someday, but not today._

_Please know that nothing you did could have prevented me going away; it was only a matter of time regardless. Papa often said that I am wild-hearted, and I suppose I understand that now. I need room to grow on my own, making my own decisions, and learn from whatever mistakes I make. This was never given to me, and it would never be given to me from what I saw between you and Papa. Thus I am taking this opportunity for myself, to be who I am meant to be._

_I have my Amulet and Blinky’s training to protect me, so you needn’t worry on that front. However, I do worry for you. I worry that you will put anger and hurt over my actions onto yourself or others, and neither deserve it. Please, if you wish to do one thing for me while I am away, it is to be your true self, and be good to others because of it._

_My only regret is that my choice will undoubtedly hurt you. You have every right to be angry with me. But know that I am coming back, when I am ready. Perhaps then, we can marry without anything holding us back ever again._

_Be brave, My Warrior. I shall be brave for you._

_Always and Forever,_

_–Your Sweet_

Vendel had been the one to read the letter Wren left behind. He recited it aloud to Draal, Blinky, and Argh, as well as to her small bridal party, after the kerfuffle of her escape died down. It was quite the moment, hearing Wren’s words through her father’s terse voice, within his cave home where she used to relax and work with him.

Draal looked stiff and tense, a snarl threatening to leave his lips. For once in his life, he felt threatened by Vendel, who snatched the letter from him the moment he brought it up after the failed chase, and did not even have the moment to read it for himself first.

At the same time, no one, not even Draal, could blame Vendel for his demands. Wren – whom in his eyes was a frail little maiden, too foolish to understand the world he saved her from – was his daughter, his only family. What began as a simple adoption to prevent further mayhem in Trollmarket, turned into a full family that played the strings of his heart. Those very same strings now hung in his chest tighter than the chains on a curse box.

“Perhaps we can pick up her trail, lead her back here.” Rika said, with a look to Argh. But the ex-Gumm-Gumm warrior, bred and trained to harness acute senses such as smell, shook his head.

“No, Wren cover scent. Planned this escape well.”

“No wonder she want my special perfume…” Glug mentioned sheepishly, as if this were all her fault. And because it was a popular perfume too, the scent could not be discerned among the crowds.

“Well we certainly won’t give up on the pursuit, of course!” Blinky affirmed. “Vendel, I can send out letters to every troll kingdom and city under earth, and–”

“And then what? Alert vagabonds and perhaps Bular himself to her vulnerability?” Vendel snapped in rage. “No, we must...we must cover up the incident, make Trollmarket believe that their Trollhunter has not abandoned them. I will be the one to write to trusted friends and sources. They can be our eyes on the search for Wren.”

“What about Trollmarket?” Bagdwella asked. “We can’t very well go on without a Trollhunter, whether the public buys your _deception_ or not!”

Well that did it. Soon everyone was speaking over the other, arguing about how to best react to and handle the predicament Wren left them in. Only Draal stood to the side, silently watching and seething over yet another hope for his life being thrown out like garbage before his eyes.

A growl grew in the bottom of Draal’s throat, threatening to rip out. A million things flung about in his mind at once: primarily, his fear for Wren’s well-being, as well as anger and hurt at her betrayal, no matter how flowery she explained it; there was also this loss compounding the previous sudden death of his father, the last Trollhunter; then it lead to the shame it brought to Draal himself, as well as to Kanjigar, that their wife-to-be and predecessor respectively, by running off from both marriage and protecting trollkind. The bickering, high emotions, and the world he worked so hard to build falling around him, all at once, finally blew up in front of everyone.

The ceremonial cloak was torn off and thrown haphazardly onto a table, causing a few of the trinkets and cups on it to fall and roll onto the floor. Not a soul, not even Vendel, said a word as he stormed out and made his exit. Blinky then shook his head, gathered his wits, and chased after him, Argh right at his tail. Vendel sighed, turning to the others to give orders on how to maintain their new secret.

“Draal! Draal, goodness gracious, you don’t think –”

Draal did not wish to deal with the historian now.

“I’m going after her.” was all he told him. Blinky zipped around to Draal’s front, all four arms outstretched to prevent him from moving forward.

“Now you listen here!” Blinky snapped impatiently. “Don’t you think for one second that I am not as fearful as you are for Wren’s safety and livelihood. I am her trainer, not to mention her tutor since she was a youngling! I was the one to find her as a whelp, after all!”

“Spare me your sympathy.” Draal snarled as he pushed him aside. The snarl became a growl when Blinky got in front of him again, hands curled into fists now.

“This girl is cleverer than you give her credit for, and I have trained her more successfully than you like to admit!” Blinky growled himself. “Don’t you think you’re going to be lost if you venture after her alone?”

Draal’s voice caught in his throat, having expected the historian to try and stop him from doing just that. “What?”

“I intend to help you, you thick-headed buffoon!” 

He blinked. “You...you want to help?”

Blinky stepped back, withdrawing his arms and using one hand to rub his forehead, face softening. “Wren knows much concerning sneaking about and hiding. I taught her that _specifically_ for her safety, for an unforeseeable event such as this. If you want any chance of finding her, then you need _me._ ”

“And me.” Argh added. Draal turned slightly to watch as he walked to his side. “Wren our friend. Need our help.”

“Assuredly.” Blinky said. “So, whether you are favorable to it or not, Argh and I will be accompanying you on this trek for Master Wren.”

Draal sighed. He really needed time to be alone, but at the same time, this was about finding Wren, getting the answers he needed. Even if Blinky was a wordy chatterbox, even if Argh were a worthless pacifist in his eyes...he needed their guidance to find those answers.

“Fine. But don’t slow me down.” he eventually conceded. Blinky waved him away with his hand, sniffing at the insult.

“I could say the same about _you._ Now hurry, we’re burning night!”

Draal did so without any complaint. After a short stop at the library for basic supplies, the three slipped away into the gyre station, making guesses as to where she would have headed to first. 

_Be brave, My Warrior._

As he settled in the gyre, and waited for a reluctant Argh to start it up, Draal tried to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chanting* HEADCANON TIME! HEADCANON TIME!
> 
> More Toddling Wren -- the flashback here is meant to be a reflection of how much Draal has changed over the years, especially in relation to Wren. At one point in his life, she was nothing more than a bothersome nobody. Wren, once a nuisance hard to be rid of, is now the object of desire and cause of his worries. And of course, where she would try and follow him around before, Wren now was running away from him.
> 
> Wedding Ceremony -- I didn't want a troll wedding to be too similar to a modern human one, so I went with "the bridal party's job is to make the bride look good and give her the spotlight while the groom and his party wait for her at the altar." One reasoning for choosing this including giving Wren some space to make a move without people getting in her way.
> 
> Draal's Friendships -- I figured that, throughout his life, Blinky and Argh were kind of like the weird uncles his dad was friends with. He liked them okay, but did not favor them much. But, here, he is learning to see more from them than he thought they could give, the way he will with Wren.


	10. An Unexpected Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of Wren's world tour is blindsided by a visit from Bular the Vicious, and unlikely allies come to her rescue. The first seeds of duty and honor begin to plant themselves into Wren as she contemplates her next steps as Trollhunter, though she finds the human world more interesting than she imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My baby OC's first fight scene *wipes away tear*

Goodness, the fresh air never felt this good before! Wren almost laughed as a rush of excitement filled her. She was free!

Thankfully she thought to bring a cape to wear over her ceremonial dress, as the cool night air of late summer nipped at her stone skin. Wren wrapped it more closely around her and continued through the forest. There was another gyre station, old but working, near the mountains, where she could go elsewhere. And where would she go? There wasn’t a coherent plan yet – she had maps she could look at once she got there. Live in the present moment, as Draal would say.

Hopefully Draal would not take her desertion too hard. It was a vain and selfish hope, though she did not admit that to herself. In some ways, Wren wanted him as a spouse: he was fiercely loyal, not to mention was obviously enamoured and unusually gentle with her during their personal moments. He even showed remorse over their previous fight over Frek. She wasn’t one to wave away that kind of fidelity and love.

Once things cooled down, and Wren felt more in control, she would return to Trollmarket and try to make things work again with Draal. She barely grew into the threshold of adult life when he and the others barged in, already settling her marital affairs without her input, and making her Trollhunting decisions for her. Was it too much to ask that she take a step back, and take it more slowly?

Ah – the Amulet. In the deep of the forest now, with moonlight barely entering past the foliage, Wren slowed her jog to a stop; she took the Amulet out of the bag, and decided to take a closer look at it.

Despite having carried and even used it for the past month, she never gave the Amulet more than a glance. At the time Wren was chosen, she was a gem cleaver, and the burden of being Merlin’s Champion far from her realm of reality. Kanjigar, while being an acquaintance of hers and a close friend of her father – not to mention her future father-in-law – did not normally flash around the damned thing either. If he wore the armor, then he was on official business, and did not allow much time for anyone to look at the Amulet.

Well, she was looking at it now. Wren carefully held it out in her palm, feeling cold, smooth, and hefty. It held several little odd arms, like a bizarre clock, with Trollish words and designs around it’s edge. Beneath the various bits and pieces, there was placed a blue, glowing gem stone. The magic crackled in her hands, no doubt recognizing her as both Trollhunter and also a well-trained gem cleaver.

“I can do Trollhunting stuff later…right?” Wren muttered to herself, looking at it still and continuing to walk. Then she felt a surge of guilt, leaving Vendel all alone in trying to lead and protect Trollmarket. “Ugh, he’s gonna kill me if they ever catch up…”

Suddenly, Wren stopped. Unlike most trolls, she did not have a keen sense of hearing and smell; but the summer night, while brisk, was quite breezy, and carried otherwise hidden scents straight into her nose.

For sure Wren smelt something…not friendly, but she heard light movement in the trees around her. No shadowy silhouettes could be found.

Wren’s ears lowered and she crouched defensively. Perhaps it was some kind of wildlife? She had come across coyotes a few times as a youngling; they wouldn’t be hard to deal now that she had the Amulet. But the smell wasn’t canine in the slightest. It began to spook her that this unknown thing was somewhat stalking her.

“Who are you?! Leave me alone!” she shouted out, now on edge. There was louder movement behind her and she whipped around to see who it was. She yelped and jumped several feet back, almost dropping the Amulet.

In front of Wren, coming out of the shadows, was a brute of a troll, stone-skin black like the dark surrounding him, with shining red irises encircled by burning orange for eyes. He carried twin swords on his back, and his claws looked just as sharp. Wren also saw faintly the shape of his horns, which curled sharply around his face, and a tuft of wild hair going down his back like a horse’s mane.

Stone skin black as night…burning eyes like the sun…

Wren gulped, too scared to make any noise. 

It was Bular.

His mouth opened into a sneer as he started growling. The skulls on his kilt klackled as he sauntered towards her.

“So, _you_ are the Trollhunter now?” he mocked, circling her slowly now. Wren knew he was trying to intimidate her -- she had been told about this tactic from Blinky -- yet her mind drew a blank on how to fight back. She didn’t even think to don her armor, she was so in shock. He must have mistaken her for a child because of how he addressed her next.

“Mm, pathetic. Kanjigar was growing old, but at least he was _fully grown._ An actual _challenge._ ”

“Stay away from me.” Wren tried to threaten as she straightened up. The hood of her cloak slid off her head now, and Bular got a closer look at her face in the moonlight. His eyes widened in recognition. Though neither had ever met before, and Wren had no chisel marks to identify her lineage, it was easy enough to gather who she was from scout reports.

“Wren the Runt?” he said in surprise, though his smile grew. “It seems taking both you and your Amulet will give me some advantage over that old goat.”

Wren yelped again as he withdrew his swords and rushed off as quickly as she could into the forest. 

“Come quietly, runt, and you might keep all of your limbs!” he shouted after her.

“Oh come on, that’s how he knows about me? Being the damn runt?!” she said hoarsely to herself in panic. The way things were going, Wren would be the next “Unkar the Unfortunate”, her careful training be damned.

She shrieked when Bular lept at her, rolling away to the side and down a bank. Wren landed in a small creek and scrambled to get up. As Bular roared and slid down the muddy wall, Wren realized that one of her feet was stuck at the bed of the creek. An ankle wedged itself between two large rocks, preventing her escape. Bular edged closer and her panic rose.

“No no no no no!” she freaked, trying and failing to tug out her foot. Looking up again, Wren saw the Gumm-Gumm ready to pounce.

“NO!” came a shout, not from her own mouth this time. Bular had reached the bottom by then, shaking his head after it was hit with a pebble. Snarling, he looked over, seeing three human younglings several feet down the stream. The taller of the three had dark hair, and was the one to have threatened Bular. Another dark haired boy with glasses cowered behind him and the stout one by the tall boy’s side.

Wren’s chest hitched. For all her years of scavenging on the surface, she was never caught by a human. It was the first time she saw this many up close, let alone one. And yet, she felt a dire need to protect these humans: they could be eaten, and they had only been trying to protect her.

Protecting her in place of Draal…because she had the bright idea to run off alone. Go figure.

Bular, knowing Wren was stuck, turned to face the human youth. “Get in my way and you’ll become my next meal!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m chunky and ready for munching!” said the stout one. He waved his arms in the air and swung his hips around. “Come and get it, freakazoid!”

Wren watched in horror as Bular charged at them. He was going to eat them, kill them: innocent human kids, all because of _her._ She was stuck and useless because she let panic overrule her training.

The Amulet began to whir into life, glowing and shining within her palm. Wren looked down, eyes wide, and realized, with all the fear and wonder in the world: _that she was the Trollhunter._

_She had the Amulet of Daylight._

_She was the only thing standing in the way of Bular the Vicious, the last Gumm-Gumm on earth._

_Those boys needed a hero, and she was it._

_As if time slowed down, Wren took in a deep breath, and repeated what she had said countless times before, but with a renewed sense of understanding._

_This was it._

“For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!”

Bular stopped just short of the boys, who all used his distraction to rush off to the brush on the other side of the creek. He had heard that familiar command, that flash of blue light, and watched as the other troll was now covered in armor. 

Using the strength of the armor, Wren wretched her foot from the creek’s bottom, and tried to make her most fearsome stance before her opponent. Bular laughed, recognizing it as one of Draal’s forms.

“First his father, now you. Another Trollhunter in just one moon! What a treat!” he bellowed. Wren gave her own small angry growl. She called for the sword of Daylight and pointed it at him.

“Take this treat if you can, _Bular._ ” she spat with more courage than she actually had. Rule number one, indeed; nothing but fear fueled her now.

Bular charged after her taunt, both swords out again, and swung. She dropped to the ground and slid on the mud beneath him, clumsily but quickly getting on her feet again to stand behind him. It was vastly different and more difficult, fighting out in the grit of nature rather than on smooth stone surfaces.

Where were those humans anyway? She had no time to look around for them, as Bular turned and roared with another charge. This time she used the Sword of Daylight to block his hit. Wren desperately hoped the block would hold out, as she could only hold her ground so much in the muddy terrain. 

“That pretend warrior taught you a few tricks I see!” Bular said now, trying to weaken her will. “Was he hoping that sending out a mere brat would avenge his father? I can’t imagine the shame of being overlooked for a puny thing like _you._ ”

Wren gritted her teeth and spun the sword downwards with a shout, forcing his twin blades to suck into the wet ground. Bular snarled in response, letting go of one and punching her in the chest, sending her flying backwards into a boulder in a flurry of blue mist. She yelled out in pain, feeling dizzy from the hit and landing.

Wren tried to stand up, but hitched her breath and hunched over, grabbing her ankle. Only now did she realize that it was strained, if not broken. She fell to one knee and glared up at Bular, who stalked over to her arrogantly.

“Pathetic.” he smirked, grabbing her by her loose hair. She yelped out and grabbed the claw that held her, the Amulet undoing the armor and falling to the ground. Bular revelled in the sight of her panic, her golden dress and jewelry glittering in the moonlight now that her cloak was missing.

“A runt of a bride for a sham of a warrior. How fitting.” he finished with a laugh, throwing Wren’s head against the rocks on the ground below them. She stopped moving out of shock, watching as the world around her swirled in place, though she did not lose consciousness. Funny: the threat of death was once enough to make her faint, yet so far she survived a small beating from Bular himself. She felt something warm and mushy beneath her head, and shook at the realization that it could be blood: HER blood.

“Now to….wait…” Bular’s sneer left his face. There was something oddly green beneath her. Tossing aside the runt for a closer look, he noticed that he threw her down atop a goblin. A goblin that was now a pile of rejected goo. 

“ _Goblin?!_ ”

The horde followed him?! He spun around, sniffing the air, and saw the growing crowd of eyes coming out of the trees. One leapt from the shadows with an angry war cry.

“ _Waka chaka!_ ”

\----

Jim, Toby, and Eli watched in both horror and amazement as the much smaller monster fought the bigger one. Bular -- as the other had called him -- seemed to have forgotten them, more focused on capturing what they assumed to be a girl monster. Frozen in place, none even made the comment of the little green creeper coming out to try and help with detaining her. 

A goblin, he called it. Toby gave a tiny yelp, tugging on Jim’s sleeve and pointing up where more of those things were climbing down. When Eli said that there were “creepers” in the woods, none of them expected _this_.

“No! You fools!” Bular shouted, backing up to try and pull out his twin blades. Soon he was swarmed by hordes of those goblins. Jim noticed that they only attacked him, effectively ignoring the barely conscious monster girl further down the creek’s edge.

“C’mon Tobes, this is our chance!”

“To what, die?!” he blathered out, catching on immediately to what Jim had in mind. But Jim already grabbed him and Eli by the arms and drug them out, rushing over the shallow creek to where she lay. Her eyes were half open, and she moved her head a little, groaning. Jim realized, up close, that her skin looked like stone. Stone monsters? Okay, fine, he could work with that. But wouldn’t that make her heavy?

“Jimbo now is not the time!” Toby whined, jogging in place as if rearing to go already. 

“No, we gotta help her!” Eli agreed, though just as scared as Toby. “She tried to help us!”

Jim frowned, but found the large cloak she had been wearing floating towards them in the water. Perfect!

“Eli, help me check her out. Tobes, grab that, we’re gonna drag her outta here.” he said, checking her head for any wounds before they moved her. Eli got out a flashlight to help him see better. Toby did as he was told, and pulled the cloak out of the creek. Jim spotted the Amulet as they worked, and, not knowing anything other than it gave her cool armor, grabbed it from the ground and pocketed it. Faster than he thought possible, the three boys maneuvered her into the fabric, and began pulling her away.

As they left behind the bushes once again, Jim looked behind him. That Bular guy was still busy with those goblins, as more and more seem to come out of the woodwork. 

“Weird how those things didn’t even try to stop us. I’ll have to note it in my journal!” Eli huffed as they pulled her further away. 

“So long as we don’t die tonight, I don’t care! Can we do that? Because not-dying sounds great right now!” Toby whined.

“What’s going on…?” came a mumble. All three looked down, her eyes more open now. They glowed a little in the dark, giving off a golden aura. “Where’s, how…”

“It’s all good, monster lady!” Toby piped nervously. “Uh, please don’t kill us.”

“Tobes, she _saved_ us. Why would she _kill_ us?” 

The girl groaned, moving her head side to side. Eli had to re-adjust his grip by her feet. “Bular, where is he? Are we safe?”

“We’re almost to my house now.” Jim said, sighing as they reached the lights and safety of suburbia. In fact, he only just now noticed that the night had gone quiet again, the sounds of battle far behind them. Dang, they moved _fast._ Adrenaline was more powerful than he would have thought.

Toby scouted ahead a little to make sure no one would see them, and then they cut through backyards before they reached Jim’s place. His mother’s car was still gone, so they had plenty of time to help her in. Despite Eli worrying out-loud about his own mother and his curfew, they made it in without a hitch.

Once inside, she was helped up to her feet, her strength returning. She wobbled a bit at her feet, and Jim noted that she looked to be about his mother’s height, if not slightly taller. Nothing crazy like that other guy, but still taller than himself. At least she could fit inside without much fuss.

“You feeling okay?” he asked once they went through the kitchen and towards the foyer in front.

“Yes. I mean, no. I know I’m hurt.” she said, holding out her hurt leg. “I must have sprained my ankle on those rocks, in the creek.”

“No problem, I got a first aid kit.” Jim assured her, rushing off to leave Toby and Eli to bring her to the stairway. She sat down on the bottom steps and sighed. 

“Thank you.”

“No probs, monster lady.” Toby said with a smile now. It was easier to be nice now that he wasn’t, you know, _running for his life._ She chuckled at the innocent name given her. 

“Oh goodness, you don’t know my name, do you? I’m Wren the Cleaver, daughter of Vendel, son of Rundle. Well met.” she said softly, holding a free hand to her forehand in formal greeting. Toby copied her greeting with an awkward grin, Eli taking out a little pocket journal and furiously writing down what he could on the interaction.

“I’m Toby, just Toby Dolmzalski. And this is Eli Pepperjack.”

“Toby and Eli.” she repeated the human names over her tongue. “I like that.”

“Oh, thanks!” Eli said, pausing from his note-taking. “It was my grandpa’s name.”

Jim came back now with the kit, having heard the exchange in the other room.

“Wren the Cleaver? Is it because you cleave people?” he asked dumbly. Toby laughed at the bizarre question though he thought the same himself. Wren winced at the thought of such a violent thing, though she gave a little grin.

“No, I’m afraid; though that particular skill would have helped me back there…”

Jim unrolled the largest packet of gauze he had, as Toby pressed a cold pack to her ankle. “So why were you out there? Fighting?”

Wren looked down now, as Eli finally put away his journal and help Toby put pressure on her injury. It made her wince but otherwise it was tolerable. “It’s...a long story. One I question myself.”

“I’m Jim Lake Jr, and I won’t judge you for that.” he joked. “Now hold on, let me just...and then...yup!

He stook back, surveying his work. It had been easy enough to address the injury, though looking downwards, she noticed that the hem of her dress was frayed and muddied. Oh well, such was life, though it did make Wren’s heart ache a little. The wrap and brace looked secure enough, allowing her to stand up a little, walking a bit along the wall before stopping.

“Hey, not bad.” she said with a smile. “I can get going with this.”

“Going? Where? Do you have to leave?” Eli asked with disappointment. She looked as if she were going to answer, but hissed when she stepped on her foot wrong.

“Yeah, that looks bad. It’s a good thing that big freak didn’t do anything worse to you.” Toby mentioned. Her eyes widened, suddenly remembering what she was doing in a human hut to begin with.

“Bular?!”

“That’s the guy who attacked you, right?” Jim asked.

“Oh bushigal, he’s gonna find me here.” Wren winced, a bit jittery in her place. 

“I don’t think so. He was pretty busy with those creepers.” Eli said.

“Yeah, goblins, right?” Toby added. Wren looked unsure, as did Jim.

“We should take precautions.” Jim spoke up. “Uh, Wren, I know you said you’re going somewhere, but…” he looked down at her ankle. She sighed.

“You’re right. Where I want to go is more or less far from here. And Bular could still be looking for me.” she looked over the boys carefully. “Are you sure I am safe here? I can _not_ be found, and not just by Bular.”

“I feel like there’s a lot going on that you need to fill us up on.” Toby interjected, crossing his arms. 

“And I have so many questions!” Eli said with a step forward. “Where did you come from? Where are you going? Why? And is this Bular guy the only giant creeper out there?”

Wren shook her head a bit from the sudden round of questions. “I, I mean, I think he’s the only one. He’s the last Gumm-Gumm in our world.”

“Gumm-Gumm?” Jim asked with a smirk. “That’s a silly sounding name for a monster like that.”

“In Trollspeak, it means harbinger of a slow, painful and thoroughly calculated death.” Wren put simply. 

“Trollspeak?...Hey, wait, are you a troll?” Eli piped up. She smiled.

“Yes, a troll, but a good one. Gumm-Gumms are the only ones you should worry about really, and the only one around here is Bular. Which, thanks to you, we managed to escape.”

“So what about you?” Toby said now getting to the point. “What’s your deal?”

Wren hesitated, wondering what she should say. It was wild enough that she was with humans -- and exposing the existence of her kind to the surface world, no less. Goodness, it was her job as Trollhunter to hide trolls from humans for their protection, and here she was already failing _that._

“I...I suppose you are all very curious about me and my people.” Wren answered, the boys nodding. “But, there is a lot I can’t share with you yet, if ever. It would put you in danger.”

“Aw, but we need to know!” Eli half-begged. 

“And we got you out of Bular’s way! I say we’re capable.” Toby said, recalling how terrified he was just trying to get Wren out of there. Jim too crossed his arms, expecting an answer. Again Wren felt reluctant about the whole affair. Not to mention: shame. Her first time to the surface since her youth, and she almost died, only making it out safely thanks to _human_ younglings. 

Wren originally planned to perhaps stay the night, lay low until her ankle felt better, then find a way to sneak away again to the far gyro station. But would Bular be waiting for her then too? A goblin horde was not likely to have felled him for her. And no doubt her old friends and family would be on the look-out for her too; Vendel, knowing him, would start sending word out to far out trusted allies about her disappearance, asking to keep an eye out for her. Had she made it anywhere that night it would not be a problem, but resting on her ankle before leaving would make her susceptible to prying eyes the moment she step foot in trolldom again.

 _The best place to hide is in plain sight,_ Blinky once taught her, _Those you hide from will be on high alert, and to be over-vigilant as to forget the obvious just under their nose._

A little idea formed in her mind.

“I can answer your questions, eventually.” Wren eventually conceded. “But right now, I need a place to stay, to hide for a time. I can’t go back home and I have nowhere else to go. Give me a place to stay and I can teach you anything you want, within reason. Deal?”

The boys all exchanged glances with one another. Eli was outright ecstatic at the prospect of learning more about this creature and her way of life, while Jim and Toby felt themselves being pulled into something greater than themselves. Eventually Jim faced Wren and nodded.

“Okay, sounds like a plan. But you’re gonna have to live with my basement for now. My mom can’t know that you’re here.” he explained. Wren sighed in relief and shook his hand on it. 

“Deal. Just lay down what you need me to do.”

They headed to the basement, where Wren felt at peace where things were going. It would be a long though excitable night for all involved. And just as the night neared its end, and Eli and Toby had to say their goodbyes, the younger of the two double jerked to the crown miraculously still on Wren’s head; connecting its presence to her golden dress and other jewelry pieces, Eli exclaimed, “Whoa! You never said you were a _princess!_ ”

She could only laugh; a long night, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if there is much in the way of headcanon's here...but I do hope I did not make Toby look cowardly. I just wanted to reflect his initial reactions to trolls in the show, which was -- fright and panic. He mellows out over time, trust me.
> 
> ALSO I really enjoy writing for Bular, he's such an evil jerk.


	11. YES IT'S LADIES NIGHT, AND THE FEELING'S RIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dazzled by the surfaceworld and human culture, Wren and her new human friends Jim, Toby, and Eli eagerly show her around, making waves with locals along the way...along with a Changeling or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands down this is my favorite chapter. I really looked forward to this one simply because I love Wren getting herself into some minor shenanigans and just having some innocent fun. Even if Vendel managed to refine her a bit as a lady, deep down the girl is mischievous and doesn't always think things through first.

“ _You_ let the Amulet go when the last Trollhunter was felled. _You_ failed to catch the new Hunter when you had the chance. Your father _will_ be displeased.”

Walter Strickler, still dressed smartly in his tweed suit and turtleneck from a day teaching at the high school, stared down the behemoth of a troll before him. The Arcadia Museum had a massive, open-air storage area on the first floor, where the dim light of the night barely showed the scenery inside. Bular was covered in the mess of fallen goblins, and he seethed in rage at the assertions of the human-looking man before him.

“I could have captured that brat _easily, _had you not sent out your _pests_ to help me.” Bular growled, snatching a towel away from a severe looking woman to wipe himself. She sported short, jet black hair, almond eyes, and a professional fuschia dress. Though she glared at him, she lowered her gaze humbly to speak in turn.__

__“The fault is mine, Your Greatness.” she began. “I did not send them out after you, though I did send them off to the forest to herd the girl within your reach. My sources told me that she was making a run for it, out of Arcadia.”_ _

__“And no one thought that I knew this already?” Bular growled. “I had it within my control! If I have another one of you Impures stand in my way again--!”_ _

__“Then perhaps this new bit of information from the Order will interest you.” Strickler interrupted him. “The girl, as you know, is Vendel’s kin. She had apparently deserted her own wedding ceremony, and ran off without a traveling partner. If she is injured and with local humans as you say, then she should be easy enough to find within Arcadia, while the Elder looks for her elsewhere.”_ _

__Bular blew air of his nose, eyes narrowing. By now all the goblin mess was clean. “Go on.”_ _

__Strickler smirked. “You may not have had a close view of the humans that took her, but Nomura and I have many connections with multiple fleshbags in this town. Anything unusual can and will be noted to us eventually, and Trollmarket will be none-the-wiser.”_ _

__“That will take too long. We need the Amulet now!” Bular demanded, a fist slamming onto the museum floor._ _

__“Patience, you brute.” Strickler continued, turning away to face the unfinished project before them, hiding under a tarp. “We are still putting together the Killahead Bridge, and by the time it is complete, both the girl and her Amulet will be in our possession.”_ _

__“Trollmarket won’t stand a chance.” Nomura sneered with glee at the thought. Bular was not happy with the answer, but accepted it for now._ _

__“I will work on your terms, but take too long and I _will_ hunt her down myself.” he threatened. Strickler waved him off._ _

__“Yes, I know that. Just remember what it takes to get your father out of the Darklands: patience, cunning, and wit. Your bloodthirst alone will not do.”_ _

__And that was that. The dark prince who was hardly respected as royalty sauntered off into the shadows, not wishing to waste the night away in some fleshbag building. Once his father returned, he decided, this would be the first place to fall into ashes._ _

__Nomura was the last one there, deciding to focus on her role as curator before the morning was set. She wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not that Wren the Runt had been the intended bride to Draal, because she more than anyone knew that somehow, someway, that idiot would get in their way. Only time would tell if such boldness would work in their favor._ _

__\----_ _

___I have a pink troll princess in my basement_ made its rounds in Jim’s head all night. While Wren assured them that, no, she was _not_ royalty, but instead a daughter of an “elder”, the boys agreed anyway that she was a princess. The crown and dress simply sold the image and they would not have it any other way._ _

__He was tired that next morning, though still energetic. Not just about Wren either: but about Claire. They were hitting it off well last night, after the auditions. Jim desperately hoped that whatever troll craziness he got himself into wouldn’t stop his chances with her._ _

__That day after school, Wren almost gave the boy a heart attack. Jim was going to get the house cleaned up before his friends dropped by and his mother came home for dinner, but found her on the floor with a broken vacuum, still connected to the electrical socket, sucking up an edge of his mother’s rug. Wren looked up at him as he entered, and her ears drooped._ _

__“Help.”_ _

__Jim dropped his school bag and put his hands in his hair. “ _What_ in the _world_ \--”_ _

__“HELP.”_ _

__Help was finally given, unplugging the devil device before turning back to Wren. “Wren, what were you thinking?! I said no touching that stuff!”_ _

__“You said cleaning devices!” Wren explained, looking incredibly guilty about the mess. “I saw this thing in your closet while finding some food and I thought it was a weapon…”_ _

__“Oh boy.” Jim said, rubbing his face; he did not even bother to question why she felt the need to handle a weapon to begin with, and let the matter rest. While the vacuum was still broken and he had some explaining to do for his mother, Wren watched the interaction carefully from the shadows of the large home._ _

__Wren was foremost interested in the woman’s bright orange hair, and later admired her for her firm if good hearted nature. It reminded her a lot of Rika in the best possible way. She continued to follow the family quietly around the home, the boys coming over as they ate with the woman they referred to as “Dr. Lake.”_ _

__Jim’s heart pounded the whole time. Catching glimpses of Wren’s passing shadows not just through dinner, but also over the following days, did not help with the stress levels._ _

__Still, at the end of it all, Jim felt it was still amazing that a pink troll princess was in his home. A real live troll! Whenever his mother went off to work, Wren eagerly watched his television programs, and movies, and video games. Jim tried lending her a few of his books, which she passed over._ _

__“That’s not me, trust me.” she chuckled. “But what’s this? Is it some kind of transportation?”_ _

__Her finger pointed to a motor magazine of his, where a Vespa model was on display with a chiseled looking model. Jim smiled._ _

__“Follow me!”_ _

__She did as she was told, and Wren was lead to the garage. Having previously been forbidden from going inside, she eagerly looked around at the dusty workspace._ _

__“What’s in here? It this where you smelt your metal?”_ _

__“What? No! I mean...maybe?” Jim fumbled. “I’m working with metal, but a special kind of metal. I’m talking chrome and original painted steel. Ha!”_ _

__A large tarp was snatched off from the corner, and after the dust settled, Wren saw mechanical looking parts scattered in and around a box. Jim wordlessly encouraged her to explore it._ _

__“So? What do you think?”_ _

__“What’s it supposed to be?”_ _

__Jim’s smile lessened a little, but he smiled still and knelt down with her. “It’s parts for a classic 1951 Vespa, like on the poster over there.”_ _

__Wren looked at the poster and then back at the sorry looking pile. Her friend blushed as he played with a mirror from the box._ _

__“I know it’s not much right now...and I’m still trying to teach myself autoparts stuff. But it's cheaper than just buying one, you know? I...I’ve always wanted to build one.”_ _

__Jim sighed a little sadly for something that supposedly made him happy; Wren placed a petite hand on his shoulder._ _

__“I’m more of a crystal engineer myself.” she half-joked. “I’m not much help here either. But it’s wonderful to have something you love.”_ _

__He grinned at that, and Wren continued._ _

__“You know, I might know a guy who could help you with a project like this.” she said with some hope. “If I...ever get back home, I mean. He’s great with mechanical machinery. You’d love him.”_ _

__“Yeah, that would be cool.” Jim said, now covering the pile again with the tarp. The air of neglect returned. “I still have some parts I need before I can build it, but I can use all the help I can get.”_ _

__“Don’t we all.” Wren mentioned, noticing a flash of light from Dr. Lake’s car as she returned home. She was hurriedly rushed back to the basement, her mind still buzzing with the little slice of human culture she was just exposed to. It was enough to keep her busy in her thoughts as Jim and Dr. Lake enjoyed one another’s company alone._ _

__\----_ _

__For the next week, aside from Wren’s more domestic adventures, nothing much happened, much to Jim’s sense of unease. Wren struggled to heal well despite proper treatment, which she explained away as her “being a runt”, but otherwise had been faring well enough. Enough, in fact, to allow Wren the opportunity to explore the human world through his home life._ _

__Still, they couldn’t keep her cooped up forever. Eli was adamant about learning more about troll folk, and especially about Bular and the danger he presented. Wren pressed upon them that there was only so much she could share, and needed to warm up to them first._ _

__“I know it sounds silly, as I am depending on you three to keep me hidden, but I have to trust that you can keep this secret. Us trolls have been hiding for centuries from humankind, and it’s not something I should be changing right away.”_ _

__“Right away? So maybe in the future humans and trolls can hang out?” Toby asked. Wren did not know how to answer that._ _

__They did, at least, get a good look at her Amulet and get a basic history lesson in Trollhunting. One evening, after another play rehearsal, the three of them ogled over it as she held it out._ _

__“It’s beautiful.” Eli gasped. The journal was taken out again as he tried to draw its image. Toby reached out and tapped on it._ _

__“What’s that blue stone in there?”_ _

__“Ah…” Wren stumped, realizing that she never actually asked about that herself. One would think a gem cleaver would know regardless. “Well, I’m not too sure. It was crafted by Merlin himself, and the power it has may mean that --”_ _

__“Merlin?! Like, ‘THE King Arthur’ Merlin?” Eli asked, pausing in his drawing. Jim looked up from a Moto magazine he had been flipping through._ _

__“Merlin is real?” he asked, eyes wide._ _

__“Well, _was_ real. He died long ago. The history on that is a bit sketchy, I’m afraid.” Wren said. “It’s a shame I can’t take you to my own home. There’s a library there, a friend of mine runs it, and it has everything you could ever want to know about trollkind.”_ _

__“We wish you could tell us all about it.” Eli hinted lamely. Wren rolled her eyes._ _

__“I know, forgive me for not divulging all my secrets for your safety.”_ _

__“Excuse _you,_ princess, but we risked our safety plenty just to keep you here.” Toby argued. “What’s it gonna take to get you to open up, huh?”_ _

__“You know…” Jim started, rolling up his magazine and tapping it on his chin. “If you can’t tell too much about trolls yet...why not teach you about humans?”_ _

__“Yeah, Arcadia’s got some hotspots!” Toby put in. “But people are gonna notice a tall pink troll walking around town, especially one that’s limping.”_ _

__“To be honest, she probably should put some weight on that ankle to help it heal.” Jim said, looking to Wren to see if she was okay with it. She shrugged; it couldn’t hurt to get some fresh air again._ _

__Eli jumped up. “I have the perfect idea! Stay here, I just gotta go home and get something.”_ _

__Before anyone could say anything, the boy disappeared. The boys shrugged and returned their attention to Wren. Jim’s mother had gone to an overnight medical conference, so the house was empty, and decided to drag Wren upstairs for more comfortable sitting in the living room. However, the kitchen was her favorite, and the boys followed her in. She beelined for the refrigerator._ _

__“You really like that fridge, huh?” Toby said, giving the appliance a hearty pat. Wren opened it, a wave of smells coming at her when she saw the food everywhere in it. It never failed to fascinate her._ _

__“It’s just so cold! And that light is so strange.” she said, shutting it. For a moment Wren paused, opening it again with a frown._ _

__“So is the light always on, or…?”_ _

__The two watched her carefully as she open and shut the fridge repeatedly as if it were the most curious thing in the world._ _

__“Dude, if she thinks _that’s_ cool, wait until we take her to a taco truck.” Toby whispered to Jim with a smile. Jim laughed, and just then, Eli returned. _ _

__“I got it! My mom had a friend go to Saudi Arabia once, and someone gave her this to wear as a gift. She was too small for it and forgot it at my mom’s house when she stayed over.”_ _

__In the bag that Eli carried in, was a long, dark-colored burqa, it’s edges trimmed with a hand-sewn design. Jim rose his brows._ _

__“Will that fit her though?” he asked, unsure. Wren looked down at the gold dress she had been wearing since she arrived, noting that it was getting threadbare at the hem from so much use. It was easy enough to clean, though wearing it everyday on her stone skin was too much for the delicate material to handle._ _

__“I can make anything work, if we’re being honest.” she shared. “But how is this...black cloth thing going to help disguise me?”_ _

__“Let me show you!” Eli said, throwing the face veil over Wren’s head. There was a little screen where she could see out, though the boys could not see her eyes very well -- if at all -- from their perspective. Her trollish face and hair were well covered and much more humanoid looking. A hanging pot over the stove gave her a reflection to look at herself._ _

__“Oh!” Wren said, twirling the veil a bit. “Is this normal attire for human women?”_ _

__“Well, not around here, I guess.” Eli said frankly. “But, people won’t be too alarmed by it, right?”_ _

__Toby hummed thoughtfully. “Well...she looks human enough, but people are gonna think you’re Middle Eastern, you know? So you’ll have to play the part.”_ _

__Wren’s ears flicked excitedly under the veil. She recalled learning a little bit of human culture from Blinky, and from what she recalled, she found the Middle Eastern cultures interesting enough. She admittedly never paid much attention to her history lessons. “I could pretend to be a lady from...Saudi Arabia, you said?”_ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__“Then I am...uh...Sadia Ali, from Saudi Arabia!” Wren proclaimed, happy to remember a human type name. The boys cheered, and helped her with the rest of the outfit. The gloves were a problem, as her troll fingers, though delicate and thin, only accounted for four of them. Toby crudely fixed this with rolled napkins, giving the pinky finger a realistic-enough looking appearance. Her dainty, trunk-like feet too proved to be an issue, though so long as Wren walked baby steps (for someone her size) and wore the black socks they dug out of Jim’s closet, then no one would notice._ _

__“It’s getting dark out anyway, too.” Toby added. “No problemo!”_ _

__There was a strip mall in town, so of course that is where they went to first. It was busy enough for a Thursday night, small crowds eager to enjoy the nice weather so close to the weekend._ _

__Jim did worry about Wren drawing attention to herself, as it wasn’t a common occurrence in Arcadia to see a burqa-dressed Muslim (and a _very tall one_ at that) walking about. Her small limp made her look more wobbly than she was. A few weird looks were given, but otherwise people minded their business._ _

__“Do you think they can see right through me? Oh goodness I hope not.” Wren muttered under her breath. She too noticed the funny looks thrown her way as other teens and adults walked by them. Jim helped her steady after she nearly tripped over a crack in the ground._ _

__“Chillax, princess! People are gonna love ya.” Toby said, leading them into a brightly colored candy store. He stepped aside at the entrance, arm out, and added with grandeur, “Ladies first.”_ _

__The door opened with a pleasant bell clanging above them, causing Wren to give a loud and surprised, “Oh!”_ _

__“Jim?”_ _

__Jim paused, watching as Claire came out of one of the aisles and the door closed behind them. She was with a couple friends of hers, who stood beside her. All of them each held a bag, filling it with various sweet treats around the store._ _

__“Uh, um, Claire! Hey!” Jim said, laughing nervously. “What’s up?”_ _

__“We’re in a candy store. Take a wild guess.” Claire said with a shake of her bag and a giggle. “Mom thinks we’re at studying at Mary’s, though, so keep this between us?”_ _

__“Nah, no yeah, it’s cool.” Jim said. There was an awkward pause before he realized that the girls were now eyeing Wren. It was hard not to, seeing as she was half a foot taller than him, and standing right behind his head._ _

__“Oh! Heh, um, this is...Sadia. Sadia Ali.”_ _

__“She’s from Saudi Arabia!” Eli piped. Mary crossed her arms and looked doubtful._ _

__“Since when do Muslim girls come to Arcadia?”_ _

__“Mary!” her darker skinned friend said. “Sorry about that, she didn’t mean to--”_ _

__“It’s fine, I understand.” Wren spoke. She had a refined tone to begin with, so it added to the illusion that she was a foreigner speaking proper English. “It’s not exactly a lie that I am out of place here, but I am happy to learn about your lives in Arcadia all the same.”_ _

__“Oh, good, I mean, sure! I’m Darci, by the way. Darci Scott. And that was Mary Wang.”_ _

__“And I’m Claire Nunez.” Claire introduced herself. “I’m friends with Jim at school.”_ _

__Wren brightened up at the mention of her full name, suddenly realizing who she was. A week's worth of living with Jim was more than enough to know about his attraction to the girl. “Claire? Jim’s Claire?”_ _

__“Jim’s Claire?” she repeated, equal parts amused and affronted. Jim choked on himself in horror._ _

__“I-I never called you that!” he assured her._ _

__“Staking claim, eh?” Toby teased. Jim elbowed him. Eli was the one to patch the situation, surprisingly._ _

__“Uh, I think he meant about the play. We told her all about how you’re Juliet and he’s Romeo.” he explained. “She’s real excited about it!”_ _

__Claire’s mood brightened a lot. “Really? Then if you’re staying here long enough, you should totally check out the play on opening night! Everyone in town is invited.”_ _

__Wren gasped, genuinely happy at the invitation. “Of course! I would love to be there!”_ _

__“Then it’s a date.” she giggled. “It was nice meeting you. Me and the girls should probably buy our stuff and get out before curfew.”_ _

__“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Jim said. The girls turned to walk up to the counter, and Jim used the opportunity to drag them out of the candy shop. “Wren! You almost exposed me!”_ _

__“Exposed you?” she said in confusion. “Does she not know that you’re interested in her?”_ _

__“I...I’m working on that.” Jim huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. They were outside again, and it was much darker than when they arrived._ _

__“Is it a typical courting custom among humans to not state your feelings clearly?” Wren asked. Eli gave a tired sigh._ _

__“Yeah, it is. Girls are so weird.”_ _

__“Well _I_ don’t keep it vague. I make it known loud and clear if I like a girl.” Toby said with some pride. Wren chuckled, the statement reminding her a bit of Draal. _ _

__It was strange, missing Draal. She looked forward to returning to him, and wondered how he fared -- but she no longer felt a guilty ache about it. In fact, Wren found herself enjoying the human world; and to think she originally planned to travel the troll lands down below instead._ _

__“Oh! The arcade! Why didn’t I think of that!” Toby suddenly cried out. He grabbed Wren’s hand and lead her along, Jim and Eli catching up with them._ _

__“Woo hoo! Good thing I brought my coin sock!” Eli announced as he pulled out that exact thing from his bag._ _

__“Arcade?” Wren asked, but her inquiry turned into a gasp of awe. They walked through the opened automatic sliding doors -- which in itself fascinated her, what magic did they use to make that move? -- and instantly she was hit with a barrage of clattering noise, whoops of people playing games, and flashing lights of various colors and intensity. She also sniffed out pizza and soda, something many of the patrons seemed to be eating as they took turns at the kiosks._ _

__The atmosphere reminded her of Trollmarket: cramped yet immense, loud and wild but buzzing with life and energy. It was a nice reminder of home, however alien it was to her in other respects._ _

__“You like it?” Jim said, taking out his wallet. “I only have five dollars myself, but it should be enough to get us some game time in along with Eli’s cash.”_ _

__Wren blinked at the strange looking currency, and watched as he put the paper into a machine, which in turn gave him multiple shining quarters._ _

__“It turned paper into metal!” she exclaimed. “Jim, you humans have so many amazing contraptions!”_ _

__“Heh, uh, thanks.” Jim laughed nervously, trying to ignore the new strange looks Wren was bringing onto herself. Toby and Eli were elsewhere, already playing thanks to the coins Eli had on his person. As Jim whipped his head around to find them, he saw Claire with her friends walking outside the window. The two caught each other’s eye, and shyly waved._ _

__Wren watched the scene closely, ears flicking against her hair from the surrounding mayhem of gamers, and did not miss the dopey smile on Jim’s face._ _

__“You really do like this girl, don’t you?” she asked bluntly. Jim cleared his throat and lead her inwards into the arcade, trying to focus more on the quarters he stuffed into his pocket._ _

__“I mean...yeah. A lot. Is it that obvious?” he asked with a sheepish look._ _

__“It is to me, at least.” Wren answered, happily observing the humans around her. “Why don’t you tell her how you feel?”_ _

__“Oh not yet.” Jim explained. “With humans, you gotta take it slow.”_ _

__“...Slow?”_ _

__“Yeah. I only just became friends with Claire, you know? We need time to know each other better, get a feel for our chemistry.”_ _

__“Hm.”_ _

__“And when the time is right...I can ask her out. Hopefully.” Jim finished._ _

__“Ask her out? You mean out of her family’s home and into your own?”_ _

__“Oh my gosh, Wr-- Sadie.” Jim said, rubbing his face and catching himself. “No, not at all. I mean- dating. Taking her out on dates. It’s like a romantic outing to have fun together. Marriage is waaaay far off, trust me.”_ _

__“Hm.” Wren said again. She walked with him as they pushed their way through the crowd. Jim glanced at her thoughtfully._ _

__“Are you seeing anyone? Romantically, I mean.”_ _

__Wren thought for a moment before answering, not wanting to give too much away. “I was arranged to wed a warrior. But I left before it became official.”_ _

__“Oh.” he answered. Somewhat awkwardly, Jim also asked, “I mean, did you _want_ to marry him?”_ _

__“Eventually, I hope to. But today is not that day.” Wren answered with a hand to his shoulder. “How about we focus on today as we are? These games look exciting!”_ _

__Jim smiled at that. He finally found the others far in the back, and they both joined in a game involving killer ninjas. Her mind wandered a bit when Eli took his turn from Toby, with Jim cheering on._ _

__Humans, for having such short lives, seemed eager to take things slow when it came to the subject of romance. The little interactions she saw between Jim and Claire felt...sweet. Wren realized that she would love to have something like that, with Draal. No social pretenses, no immediate plans for marriage: just being together, enjoying what they had already. While they did share their sweeter, more intimate moments, it was always under the weight of “we’re a pair already whether you like it or not.”_ _

__“Dang it!” Eli bemoaned, having died so quickly in the game. Wren’s attention went back to the boys before her, and Jim stepped forward, cracking his knuckles as if he were a professional._ _

__“Step aside, and let the master play.” he gave with a sly grin. They hooted as he started up a new game. Wren smiled. These humans were more intriguing than she thought, and she was beginning to think it was a good thing that she was lead to them after all._ _

__\----_ _

__Nomura had walked out of a specialty Asian food store, bag of tea products in hand, when she first saw her. She was incredibly tall -- not an abnormal height for a human, only an inch or so taller than Strickler would have been -- but tall nonetheless. She was also covered in a traditional Muslim veil and dress, no shape or color of her face shown, and being pulled around by three local adolescent boys._ _

__Frowning, she decided to stroll down the sidewalk outside the strip mall a bit, to see what she could gather. First the boys lead her into a candy shop, where they chatted with some girls and then left. Their next stop was a video game arcade, where the tallest one with dark hair and a blue jacket got her some money and talked a bit. After that, they went deeper into the arcade and she lost sight of them from the outside._ _

__Perhaps there really was a Muslim woman, taller than most men she knew, visiting Arcadia with teen boys as her guide. Humans were strange and did stranger things. Nomura lived among their kind far too long doubt that._ _

__But what bristled her the most was not the fact that a conservatively-dressed religious woman was meandering about in a relatively secular town, or that school kids were showing her around as if it were the best thing in the world._ _

__What bothered Nomura, was the fact that she had been given that exact burqa, over a year ago, and purposely left it at a friend’s house: the son of whom was walking with her. It had the same hemline, handcrafted with a specific pattern, and was of the same type and size. That could not be just a bizarre human coincidence._ _

__As soon as she lost sight of them, she turned to leave to her car so as to not raise suspicion. As she drove home, she got out her phone and made a call. Strickler would finally have the lead he needed._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> headcanon dump:
> 
> not actually a lot to post here headcanon wise, again. But, I tried to make Eli as boy-like as possible. Having younger bros helps, lol. Also, Jlaire is so cute and wholesome to write for?? I love these dorks so much.
> 
> Also, a note on Claire -- in the shoe she's a goody two shoes at first, but then is gradually shown as more of a rebel. I decided to show her more rebellious side right away.


	12. Facing Fears With Your Peers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Wren begins exploring more of the human world she has fallen in love with, she is faced with her duties as Trollhunter when her friends become in danger from a shadowy figure of her past. Vendel, too, learns to face his own demons.

That Friday after their night out was interesting, to say the least. The unease that Jim felt before about how smoothly things had been working out a little too easily grew bolder. 

First, Mr. Strickler took a sudden interest in his home life. It wasn’t that the man had been disinterested before; in fact, Jim favored him above the other teachers for the very reason that he was patient, helpful, and willing to listen to his students. His classes were interesting too, when Jim was awake enough to listen in. 

That day, however, Mr. Strickler prodded more than usual into Jim’s affairs, and his student took notice.

“It’s good to see you making friends, participating in school events.” the history teacher commented one day after class. They were alone and spoke at his desk. “Yet, you still fall asleep in class, and other teachers tell me that you are heavily distracted. I’ve noticed your grades slipping as well.”

“Yeah, I guess home life has been kinda busy.” Jim said vaguely, rubbing his head. It wasn’t a lie at least. 

“I understand it’s just you and your mother at home?” Mr. Strickler prompted. He took out his pen, popping the cap on and off as they continued to converse. 

“She works double shifts at the clinic, so I just do what I can to help out.” the boy answered. “I really don’t want her to worry about anything after being in the ER all day, you know?” He went to grab his history book, but he fumbled and it fell to the floor instead. Both bent down to pick it up, but Mr. Strickler handed it to Jim first.

“You may feel as if you have the whole world on your shoulders, Young Atlas, but you are young still. You should be enjoying your youth, not stressing it away from your life.” Mr. Strickler said standing up again. “Actually, how about I give your mother my number?”

“Uh, I don’t…” Jim started, but it did not matter. He used his pen and a sticky note to jot down the numbers and pushed it into his hand. 

“Enjoy life, Young Atlas.” Mr. Strickler finished, showing Jim out. “You only have so long before adulthood.”

Jim nodded and mumbled a goodbye before heading out, stuffing the phone number into his pants pocket. Mr. Strickler hummed to himself thoughtfully, wondering what a boy his age could possibly be hiding from him. 

For Jim’s sake, he hoped it had nothing to do with the Trollhunter.

\----

“Why in the heck did you bring him to school?” Eli asked with a fright. He watched Toby sneak a Nougat Nummy into his backpack, where their gnome friend -- whom they eloquently named Gnome Chompsky -- hid with a Sally Go Back doll. Happy chittering, chewing noises followed.

“Chompsky was getting bored just sitting around my Nana’s dollhouse all day. Guess he wanted to show Sally around on a date.” Toby said as if it were the most practical thing in the world. Eli sighed and tried to focus on his lunch. They sat outside in the courtyard, under the shade of a tree, and Jim soon joined them.

“So? In trouble with Mr. Strickler?” Toby asked, letting Chompsky poke his head out to look around. 

“Not really, I think.” Jim answered, throwing down his school bag and taking out his own lunch bag. “Said he was worried about my grades and stuff.”

“We should make a study group!” Eli put in. “Sadia said she could teach us stuff about...er, Saudi Arabia now, so maybe we can just make it a joint thing.”

Jim smiled in amusement. It felt strange, using code names to talk about real life troll people like that. “Maybe. I just hope Mr. Strickler doesn’t start snooping around too much. It’s weird enough trying to hide Sadia from Mom.”

Just then, Eli’s phone gave a ping. He checked it as the other two threw bits of food into Chompsky’s mouth.

“Uh, guys, my mom wants to have tea with Sadia.” he said with a hint of nervousness. The others didn’t seem so bothered by it. After all, they had all told their respective families about their friend, having been seen with her in public. 

“So? It could be nice.” Jim put in, laughing when the gnome caught his piece of tomato.

“I dunno. Do you think she’s ready to interact with our families yet? I just have a bad feeling about it.”

“You get a bad feeling about a lot of stuff.” Toby brushed off. Jim said nothing, not wishing to acknowledge the anxiety he himself had felt lately. 

“Okay, but only if Sadia is okay with it. Her ankle is still off.” Eli said. He answered his mother and left it at that. After school that day, with no homework for once, all three went to Jim’s house to tell Wren about the tea with Mrs. Pepperjack.

“Oh, tea sounds lovely.” Sadia said. She recalled with fondness -- and the slightest bit of guilt -- of the afternoon teas she used to share with her Papa. “I don’t mind going alone if I must.”

“You sure? You only went out once last night.” Eli put forward. 

“I am! If we are being honest, I feel foolish for not meeting all your family members respectively.” 

“Just one question.” Jim said, an index finger pointing upwards, and then to Wren’s new outfit for the day. “Why are you wearing my mom’s sweats?

That was that, then. After agreeing that wearing Barbara’s less-worn clothing wasn’t such a bad idea after all, Wren put on her burqa and followed the boys to Eli’s home. It was still light out, and after a few minutes of tentatively stepping about in the sun, Wren was comfortable enough to walk there normally. It felt odd to sense the heat of the daytime sky against her back without crumbling to stone. She almost shook with a mix of anxiety and excitement. 

“Talk about a life hack.” Toby joked as Wren continued to stumble a bit. She chuckled. Humans had a strange way of saying things. 

The walk took longer than they anticipated; Wren constantly stopped to look at local children playing their games, or of dogs walking with their owners. The boys had to practically restrain her when a raccoon rustled in a trash can, and Wren was adamant to “pet the pretty looking cat like on the talking crystals you have!” Toby, of course, took whatever videos and photos he could.

“You know, I never tried human tea before.” she mentioned later, when they finally made it to his front door. Wren allowed Jim to help her walk a bit upwards, onto Eli’s porch. 

“Uh, maybe you should leave out the ‘human’ part, when you ask about the tea.” Jim chuckled. Eli opened the front door, lead them in, going to the living room.

“Mom! We’re here!”

“Oh, welcome!” Mrs. Pepperjack said. Her voice was somewhat nasally, with an obvious New Jersey accent, but sounded inviting and warm. Wren liked her already, though as she was finding out, she tended to like most humans she met. It was hard not to. It wasn’t as if the folk of Trollmarket went out of their way to be cruel, yet they were never as inviting, kind, and eager to please as these humans were. Well, except for Glug and Bagdwella anyway. Wren would bet that those two would like humans just as much as she did.

“Thank you for inviting me. It was very kind of you.” Wren said pleasantly.

“Oh how polite she is!” Mrs. Pepperjack cooed. Eli groaned.

“I’ll just be in my room with my friends, Mom.”

“Are you sure? Miss Nomura dropped by with the tea, and it would be rude to not take her offer.” she chided. Wren froze on the spot. She desperately tried to hold back her flicking ears, knowing that name from a depressing past. 

Nomura? _The_ Nomura, a Changeling? Well, Changelings did share names with their human familiars; it was how they blended into the human world, after all. Perhaps this was merely coincidence and this was simply another human with the same name. 

Still, Wren found herself a little more on edge now. She had never met the Nomura who killed Lora and betrayed Draal. And now she was alone, as the boys insisted that they were good on tea, and followed Eli upstairs to his room. That just left her and Mrs. Pepperjack.

“Forgive my son for being so rude! Really, having guests over and he hides away--” 

Wren looked over to the woman and tried to smile, forgetting that her face was hidden anyway. “Oh, I am not offended in the least, madam. I actually look forward to some...girl time, as they put it?”

Mrs. Pepperjack giggled in agreement, leading her to the kitchen. In the middle was an island with high-set chairs, and with her back facing the two women was Nomura herself. There was a metal tea pot of Chinese origin sitting on the counter in front of her, with little ceramic, flowery cups filled with hot green tea.

“Nomura honey! This is Sadia, the young lady I told you about this morning.” she announced. Nomura turned, and Wren found that she has a friendly-enough looking face...for now.

“Welcome to America, Miss Ali.” she greeted, gesturing for her to take a seat. The two women did so on either side of her. 

“Please, call me Sadia.” Wren told her, settling in carefully so as to avoid making too much noise on the chair from her immense weight. Nomura smiled kindly and turned her attention to Mrs. Pepperjack.

“Tell me, how do you two know one another?” Wren asked carefully. Mrs. Pepperjack answered.

“Oh, I’m a part-time legal consultant. Sort of. I only ever work for the museum now, from home.” 

Nomura nodded. “I know you wanted to stay home full time with your son, but your scrutiny of those contracts is unparalleled.”

“Oh hush.” her friend laughed. “Gossip and girl talk, hardly work.”

They were handed their respective cups, and began drinking. Wren fumbled a little with hers, trying her best not to spill as she slipped the cup underneath her veil; thankfully, neither of the others noticed, busy catching up on small talk.

But then Wren paused just as she held the cup to her lips. There was a bizarre scent coming from the tea, one that was odd even for a human drink. Growing up, Wren came across many bizarre and dangerous herbs used in arcana or simply medicine, and that knowledge was refined under Blinky’s tutelage. Alarms blared in her mind as she slowly put the cup back down -- those herbs were _not_ meant for casual drinking.

“What is it….Sadia?” Mrs. Pepperjack asked, who began to slump over her place on the island. “Is it….b…”

Then she fell forward with a loud thud, her cup rolling off onto the floor with tea spilling over her lap. Wren jumped up and faced Nomura.

“What did you do?!” she demanded. The Amulet, hidden away on her waist beneath the burqa, started to pulse, reacting to her fear.

“You’re not human, and you have a limp.” Nomura countered, sneering as she calmly stood up to face her. “Don’t worry, Louise is a friend of mine, I wouldn’t hurt her if just to keep her fat mouth around.”

Wren growled, as they began to circle one another. “You’re...you’re the Changeling! I know about you! You killed Lora! You killed her!”

“She got in my way, it was her own fault.” she replied, almost hiding that hint of bitterness in her tone. “Besides, Krax was the one to throw her in front of him like a shield. Or did Draal exclude that detail when recounting it? He was always one to _vilify._ ”

“What are you doing here?!” Wren suddenly demanded. She threw off the whole veil, now just in the sweats. Which was...a silly idea, once she realized how funny she must have looked: bristling with anger and in too-small sweats was not a look she anticipated. Nomura cackled.

“You know why, _Trollhunter._ Now lets see how well that blue buffoon trained you!”

Wren truly had no idea why the Changeling was there, but Nomura jumped at her in her human form anyway. Wren used her arm to block it and wayside her to the other side of the kitchen. There was loud clattering as pots and jars from the higher shelves fell off and over her. The Trollhunter winced at her own strength -- at least she was stronger than Nomura’s fleshbag form.

Wren backed up into the living room, where she put on her Amulet and now wore her armor. There was a crackle of green, magical energy from the kitchen; Nomura must have transformed. 

Sure enough, just as Wren called for the Sword of Daylight, Nomura came out in her troll form. She was taller now, with hooved legs, a longer, more angular face, and her black hair sleeker and longer than before. Her eyes shone a bright green, popping against her fuschia colored skin. She gave a sharp toothed grin, taking out curved twin blades from her back.

“Shame I have to rough you up, you’re prettier than I imagined.” she taunted, lunging for an attack. Wren blocked with a hearty blow against the attacking blades. She hissed a little, realizing that she would either have to fight by putting pressure on her ankle, or by hobbling around and hoping for the best. 

There wasn’t much time to dwell on those two choices. Nomura attacked again, twirling herself into a sharp-bladed tornado. Wren could only hold up her sword at a tilt, stumbling back as she fell back into the hall next to the stairs. 

“Leave her alone, creeper freak!” piped an angry voice. Nomura barely had time to look over to see who it was, when a very angry gnome was slammed into her face.

“AH!” she shrieked, falling backwards and tripping over the couch. Wren looked up the stairwell, and saw three very shocked boys staring right back at her.

“ _What are you doing here?!_ Run!” she shouted. They rushed down and Jim grabbed her arm. It was darker out now, with enough shadows to allow Wren outside after them. 

“Only if you come with us!”

“Chompsky!” Toby cried out. The little guy had been thrown against a wall, groaning in pain on the floor. Nomura got back up, looking dangerously furious.

“GO!” Wren rushed as she pushed them all out the door. The door slammed shut behind them, and Nomura did not follow as they snuck around the trees between the yards of other homes. 

“Bushigal! A Changeling! What is a Changeling doing in Arcadia!?” Wren panicked, limping as she ran. They found themselves in the woods in the midst of their panic, and she cursed under her breath. “It’s getting dark and Nomura knows we’re out here. We have to get somewhere safe.”

“What is she though?!” Eli said with worry. “My mom is back there, we--”

“Your mother is safe, Nomura confirmed it herself.” Wren interjected. But Eli was having none of it.

“She’s alone in the house with that freak! I want my mom!” he shouted, making a move to go back. Wren grabbed him by the arm with a strong grip.

“Eli, I need you to trust me! She’s safe!” Wren did look back, however, and lightly placed him with the other two. “Please, stay here. I can check in on her. But go away from here, and stay out of the woods, out of the shadows. Do you understand?”

They all nodded reluctantly, and did not leave until they lost sight of her as Wren rushed off. Eli wrapped his arms around himself.

“I just want my mom back!” he whined, his eyes wide. “She has to be okay!”

“Hey hey, our warrior princess is on the case, dude!” Toby tried to assure him. They walked back towards a street now, noting how dark it was getting. As soon as they made it to a sidewalk much further away, Wren had caught up with them, donning her veil once again. 

“Is she okay?! What’s going on?!”

Wren placed a hand on Eli’s shoulder and bent down to look him in the eye as well as she could. “She’s perfectly fine. I picked up the place a bit and laid her on the couch. She’ll wake up and remember none of it. That sedative in the tea will keep her mind foggy on what happened.”

“What about that creeper?” Jim asked.

“ _Changeling._ And she was gone by the time I went back inside.” Wren said, not sounding the least bit happy about it. “This is not good. Your mother is friends with a _ruthless assassin._ ”

“Are Changelings always like that?” Jim asked again, now noticing Chompsky in her hands. “Oh!”

“He’s fine too, strappy little thing he is.” Wren said, allowing Toby to pick him up gently. “But I am more worried about Nomura. She said she was after me for being the Trollhunter, though that is the end of what I know.”

“Really?” Toby said, cradling the gnome into his bag. “I know you said you fight Gumm-Gumms, but that Bular is the last Gumm-Gumm left.”

“He is, but I suppose he is employing Changelings to do his dirty work.”

Eli stook a step closer to Wren’s side, as if to comfort himself. “...Are there more out there?”

“That’s what worries me.” she admitted. They reached Jim’s house, and stood in his driveway now. “Listen, I need you three to pay attention closely. Okay?”

They nodded, solemn, and she continued. 

“Changelings are not to be trifled with. They are cunning, ruthless, and deadly. I...I know this more than anyone.” Wren said, swallowing the hurt she still felt from Lora’s absence in her life. “And now, Nomura knows you three help me. That puts all your lives in danger.”

They said nothing, though they all shared looks with one another.

“Boys...I can’t keep pretending I’m on holiday anymore.” Wren said, sighing. “I’ve been acting foolish, pretending to be human when I am not. From now on, I need to be a Trollhunter, and do what I can to protect Arcadia from whatever threat Bular is planning.”

“Let us help you.” Eli said, sounding much more resolute than before. “I don’t want those things hurting my mom!”

“Count us in too.” Jim said, sharing a determined look with Toby. Wren hesitated. 

“Are you sure? This is a lot to ask of you.”

“We can train, right? And you were gonna teach us troll stuff anyway.” Toby said. “We can learn how to kick butt together!”

“And be spies!” Eli said, now smiling. Jim patted her arm.

“This is our town too. We’re a team.” he explained. “We got you into this, and now we can help you stop it.”

Wren could not argue with that. She brought them into a large hug, and thanked them. When they let go, they all said their goodbyes, and looked forward to their first lesson that weekend. 

\----

Vendel rarely spoke unless it was to tell off someone who had the misfortune to grate on his nerves; though, that took little effort to do so these days. Without Blinky or Argh around, let alone Wren, he found that his role as Elder was much more annoying and time consuming than before. He never realized how much he relied on them to keep things running -- to keep him sane.

As such, he made the Heartstone chamber severely off-limits to commoners. Guards stood place at the front to allow him peace to work, and work he did much of these days. Vendel could hardly go a minute, hands empty, without working himself up thinking about Wren. The only time he stood away from his magicks and gem cutting was to check with day-to-day needs of Trollmarket, and even then he kept it to the point. No pleasant strolls on the street where people could chat him up, no relaxing evenings at his cave where he drank his glug: only work.

Only one particular troll wasn’t having any of his coldness, and she was annoyingly successful at it.

“I brought the powdered willowbait you requested.” Rika announced her presence, basket on her hip. She ignored the guards who eyed her carefully.

“Place it here and then leave.” Vendel said harshly, trying to scare her off in vain. “I need peace to work.”

“You call being an mean old goat peaceful working?” Rika said smoothly, though she took out the jar of willowbait as requested and set it next to him. 

“If I’m a mean old goat, then you’re a bothersome, nosy hen.”

“A hen? And just yesterday you said I was an impudent matron.” Rika gave with a genuine chuckle. Vendel could have flushed at the teasing had something about her not caught his eye.

A bit of her shining hair was flung back behind her shoulder. Strange, she usually carried it in a high bun, atop her head. And the stripe of grey looked more silver now, among the darkness of the hairs that were raven black still; all of it, silver or dark, fell down a long length to the bottom of her back. 

Vendel shook his head and looked away. He didn’t need to ponder over her hair -- he needed to be working.

“Forgive me if I run out of insultingly fitting names for you. I’m sure you’ll survive without them.”

“But you yourself are not surviving, are you?” Rika said, more firm this time. “You’re working yourself to death, acting as if the world is out to stop you. You may be crankrous, but never have you been this cruel and shut off to your own folk.”

Vendel paused for only a moment, fumbling a bit with the powder he almost spilt into a bowl. 

“You know I worry for Wren. There is nothing more to add.”

“Vendel, I miss her too. I more than anyone know what it’s like to lose a child.” Rika said, much more gentle this time. She even placed a lavender hand on his arm. “But you have hope. Wren can come back. She said so herself in her letter.”

“ _Can_ is the root word here, is it not? _Can_ is not a guarantee. _Can_ does not indicate the promise of Wren’s _life and well-being._ ” Vendel snapped, pushing her hand off him. 

“Even if Wren were here next to you, nothing would be guaranteed.” 

Her voice sounded bruised. Vendel let out a breath and looked down to her. 

“I realize that. Do not think I am so foolish as to attempt to control fate.”

“Sometimes you act as if you do.” Rika said, not accusatory, but merely sharing an insight. She fiddled with her basket, looking at him. “You plucked her up from the streets without so much as a warning, shoved her through schooling and training she did not care for, set up her own courting without her say-so…”

“Now you sound like her.” Vendel said dryly, facing the midwife fully now, hands behind his back. Rika smiled slyly at his unimpressed countenance.

“Only because I repeat what she has said herself. And even without that letter, you know the girl wears her heart on her sleeve, as much as she tries to hide it otherwise to spare your shame.”

Vendel grunted and turned back to his work on the table, carefully pouring in the ingredients into a brass bowl. “It doesn’t matter now. I have already been shamed by that stunt she pulled, yet I find it hard to care anymore. I only...I want her to…”

He didn’t have to finish. Rika patted his arm again.

“I know. But you have the chance to see her in the future. Use that hope to inspire you, not keep you down.” 

Vendel grunted once more, setting down the bowl a little too harshly. Rika held back a laugh at his little display of frustration. 

“You are always welcome to speak with me, Vendel, about anything. Perhaps we can talk over tea or glug someday. But for now I must return to my own work. Fare well until then.”

The Elder did not turn to watch Rika leave, not until he heard her footsteps were closer to the archway out of the Heartstone. When she was, Vendel turned his head slightly, and took in her hair swaying slightly side to side, basket resting almost lazily on her hip, with an equally lazy arm holding it there with effortless grace befitting her experience and age. He turned back to his project, frowning.

“ _Infernal woman._ ” he hissed under his breath, despite making plans to see her as soon as he could in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what it is about me, but I always have this need to give cranky grampa characters a sarcastic gf. Rika was never intended to be a pair with anyone, let alone have a larger place in the story's plot, but here we are.


	13. Water Water Everywhere, and Only Grog To Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren prepares to face off Bular with her human friends, as Draal, Blinky, and Argh fail to find her -- before bumping into an old friend who may be the key to Wren's safety.

A DVD case that blared “KRAV MAGA: EXTREME EDITION” was thrown into Wren’s lap. They were at Toby’s home now, her burqa hung on a wall to the side in his room. She had just changed into “normal clothes” consisting of wide jean shorts, a graphic t-shirt blaring “PAPA SKULL” in dark sparkling purple and a matching headband. According to Eli, he found it on the cheap at a local thrift shop. He must have been studying her more closely than she thought, for he had Wren’s measurements perfect.

That alone made it more decent than the too-tight sweats from the day previously. As Wren sat on Toby’s floor to watch him talk about his magician’s kit, Jim had tossed the DVD at her. She picked it up carefully. 

“Krav Maga?” Wren asked. Jim shrugged.

“You said you weren’t trained that long about troll fighting, so I figured why not learn human stuff for fighting? My mom learned this and it looks alright to me.”

“Better than nothing I suppose.” Wren said, turning the case over to read the back. “Though I owe you more than fighting lessons. You’re all owed a history lecture or two.”

She grinned, watching all the boys grow wide eyed and scoot close to her on the floor. A tome of maps -- the only troll book on her person from when she ran away -- was taken out of Wren’s bag and opened up before them. She turned it to face the pages at the others so that they could see the world map of kingdoms and cities around the globe.

“Trollkind has been living under the earth, co-existing in peace with humans, since time began.” Wren started. “That was, until some trolls discovered the surface, decided they wish to eat humans.”

“Oh.” Eli whimpered, recalling Bular. 

“After years of fighting between humankind and trollkind, it poisoned the first Heartstone, and from it, Gunmar the Black was born…”

The boys interrupted her periodically, asking her questions about magic mentioned, or battles described. Wren wondered to herself if this was how Blinky felt, when he managed to wrangle her down long enough to listen to one of his own lessons as a youngling. 

“So now you all live in secret and fight Bular?” Jim clarified. Wren nodded. 

“To keep trollkind secret gives both trolls and humans protection. Bular can’t very well fight a whole race of human beings alone, can he? So he keeps to the shadows where we can contain him.”

“That’s what you do right? As Trollhunter.” Eli said with a smile. Wren did not smile back.

“I...I am supposed to be doing that, yes.” she admitted with some sheepishness. “I’m surprised that Bular took this long to find me with a Changeling. But that’s why we all need to start training immediately. It’s clear that he has some kind of network working for him.”

“And we can start a network of our own!” Eli said. Toby liked that idea.

“Yeah, how about: War Boys?”

“War Boys?” Jim said with a snicker.

“Perhaps we should call ourselves Trollhunters.” Wren said as she stood up slowly. “If I’m one, then so are the rest of you.”

“Trollhunters.” Eli repeated with awe. The other two agreed and everyone shook hands on it.

“Alright, Trollhunters, let’s get busy!” Toby announced, taking out the DVD and placing it into his computer drive. Wren half-watched as the boys started to follow along with the work out, thinking of what kind of fight they were really up against. 

Chompsky must have had similar thoughts, for he snuck out of the room through a cracked door, eager to find out who had the audacity to nearly crack his skull the night before.

\----

Draal’s middle name certainly was not ‘subtle’. Even with his own cloak and hood, it was hard to mistake his appearance for anyone else. No greasy backwater tavern or high trollish palace would overlook him: and who would or should? To overlook any warrior such as the Deadly would invite a challenge of honor. 

Blinky, catching on to this issue right away, immediately suggested that they all split up.

“I will check with former colleagues at the library here.” the historian noted as he handled his straps underneath his own traveling cloak. It fit in such a way that it covered his chest, and thus his identifying chest marks. “Argh can sniff out the area in case her scent has lingered here.”

“So what am I? The errand boy?” Draal growled as he was handed a bag of trade goods to spend. Blinky gave a sympathetic, though frustrated and stern, look. It was a fatherly type of look that said, ‘behave yourself’.

“People will wonder why you are here. Some folk have already approached you with burning questions and that alone can jeopardize our mission if you ask too many of your own. Just...go about. Speak with people in natural conversation. One would be surprised at what kind of information they let slip when allowed to monologue.”

“I’m sure you know that feeling.” Draal said with a smirk. Even Argh gave a chuckle but caught himself when Blinky glared at him. 

“Just try and enjoy yourself for once. For Wren’s sake, if not your own.” he conceded, ushering him away.

 _Wren is no more safer if I pretend to go on holiday,_ Draal snipped in his mind. He would have spoken it aloud had Blinky and Argh not already part ways. Whatever. If he had to fake a vacation, then perhaps this gave him the excuse he wanted to mope in peace.

The trio had already checked out three settlements in North America, not counting Trollmarket itself. First there was that trailer park in Utah, which was such a small and sleepy hole for simple troll folk that they hardly spent the whole day there. Still, Sagdwella, the loving sister to their Bagdwella that she was, insisted that they at least stop for a meal and chat. After telling them of a newer community to the east, by the Mississippi river, off they went again to another town.

It was more under _water_ than actually under _ground,_ but the water was dark and deep enough to shield trolls from the daylight rays. The buildings of rock and metal sat at the bed of the river, and Argh had been mesmerized by their semi-translucent windows of durable crystal that allowed one to view the wildlife outside of their watertight homes. He oohed and awed over a passing freshwater shark when the Elder of the town told of a village in the Arctic Circle.

“Don’t bother with the Quagawumps. We have regular correspondence with them, and they always let us know if a troll trespasses their territory. The King is adamant about that, as we ship them their blacksmithing materials for weaponry when they need it. But if what you’re looking for is a _real_ treat, then head north. There’s an underground spring that humans haven’t discovered, and trolls from everywhere go there to relax, or find precious metals in the mines. Or both, really: it’s a true destination spot these days.”

It seemed like the kind of place an impassioned gem cutter would rush off to. After another round on the gyre, the trolls found themselves in what looked to be a wild tourist town. Draal would have enjoyed it more if not for the reason behind the ‘visit’. 

Draal, throwing off his hood now, made his way to the local hot springs to see what they had. He wasn’t one for swimming but if that’s where people opened their fat mouths, then all the better for him.

“One session please.” Draal told the troll behind the gated door, giving him his cloak. He felt the humidity inside hitting him in misty waves. The exchange was simple enough and the rates fairly cheap. He was even greeted with a complimentary cup of grog, which he promptly downed a few seconds later when he realized that the place was a _public bath house._

 _Great Gorkus,_ he groaned internally. Every natural pool was filled, the atmosphere filled with chatter and laughs, and he struggled to look around for a place to sit. 

“Draal?”

Oh, right. People could recognize him. He turned to face whoever spoke, and almost dropped his empty cup when Draal saw that it was Frek.

At least, a much less threatening view of Frek, from what he could recall. The Slayer laid back lazily with his own cup of grog, looking surprised as well. Draal walked over and saw that he was missing an eye from the side of his head that he had crushed; a piece of granite filled the hole now. The broken hand had healed much better, though the scar lines remained.

“So you survived after all.” Draal managed to get out. He stood by the edge of the little pool, which was unusually empty save for Frek. He smirked.

“All thanks to you and your maiden fair.” he said aimebly enough. He held no hard feelings for the fair fight, and even less so because of Wren’s kindness. For her sake, he would not cause trouble where none had to be lifted up.

“Hm.”

Frek then frowned. “Speaking of which, how is she? I heard you both married now. On a honeymoon retreat?”

“Ah…” Draal sat down now, letting his feet into the hot spring to buy him some time. “Well, sadly, she has ah, been busy on Trollhunting business. I hate to wait around, so I’m traveling a bit. Heard of this place from the River Bank Elder.”

“Ha! Of course he would send you here. His brother works the hot springs. It’s the only thing around here that makes good money.” Frek said, drinking the last of his grog before setting on the ground by his shoulder. “What is surprising is the fact you are not pounding me on sight. For obvious reasons.”

Draal furrowed his brow. “I have no reason to fight you. I won.”

“The fight as well as your bride.” Frek replied. He gave a sigh. “Don’t think I didn’t see you as I left that day, staring me down like you should have finished me off.”

Draal did not reply to that. Instead he looked down at the water that bubbled around his feet. Frek himself closed his eye for a bit, and did not open it until he continued a few moments later. In fact, he sounded somewhat concerned as he spoke.

“You know, it’s a shame she has to be the Trollhunter. Wren isn’t one to fight. Her heart is too soft for that.”

Draal growled. “I will not speak of it.”

“Forgive me, but I do think of her as a friend; I only ask out of concern.” Frek noted with his one eye half-open. 

“She’s _fine._ ” Draal said a little to quickly. “Anyway, what are _you_ doing here? Surely not to pester me.”

“Taking a short break from business.” he said now smiling and sitting up. “As you would expect, my family disowned me, but that gave me more opportunities than I could have imagined!”

“Oh?” Draal prompted. He leaned back on hands. So long as they did not speak of Wren, he was a willing listener. 

“Turns out my brothers sent me off to Trollmarket just to keep me out of their faces, from what my mother wrote to me. So, I started doing odd jobs here and there, mostly guard duty. You know, for those who trade between settlements. It’s nothing like the warrior’s path, but I take what I can get.”

“Guard duty makes a decent enough living.” Draal put in. 

“Decent enough to save up for a well-deserved break.” Frek added. “But I’m picking up a new job soon, near the human town of Arcadia.”

He must have noticed Draal’s sudden hard look, because he laughed. “No no, nowhere near Trollmarket. There’s a gyre station in the mountains that I will be using. But I was recently given a package to deliver by myself to the town. Perhaps I’ll run into your Trollhunter while I’m there.”

“Unlikely.” Draal responded. Again Frek laughed.

“Ah, you’re right. She’s probably too busy as is. I won’t raise a fuss, swear on my honor.”

“You have honor now?” the blue warrior asked in amusement for once. Frek smugly leaned back again, hands behind his head.

“A wise -- if peculiar -- little maiden once told me that I had more power in my hands than I knew.” He said with all the confidence in the world. “So, I took that power, and forged my own honor, one not dependent on the premise of those who wish to do away with me. I promise you, Destroyer, that it’s worthy enough to swear on.”

Draal grunted, looking back into the water. They sat in comfortable silence for a long time after that and pondered inwardly about their future. 

By the time Draal made his leave, Frek found another pal to chum about with, and thus did not make much of a farewell to either as he snuck away. So much for trying to find information; at least he could tell Wren about her Slayer’s fate if they ever met.

 _ **When** we meet,_ Draal corrected himself. Hopefully the historian and his friend would have more answers.

As usual, they did not, though they found Frek’s encounter interesting. They all shared a cheap little one nest room at a local inn, the ripped shower curtain covering the window from outside noise and crowds. Draal stood in front of it, not liking to be cramped without protection at his back. 

“Are you sure he had no information on Wren?” Blinky pushed. He paced by the little writing desk that Argh attempted to scribble at. “He did try to fight for her after all.”

“I’m sure of it. But he is returning to Arcadia soon for his own business.” Draal explained. “Best to send word to Vendel, in case he needs to be kept on watch.”

“Can do that.” Argh said with a nod. “About to send letter anyway.”

“I…I will be honest.” Blinky said, turning to Argh. “I do not think we are getting anywhere. All we have learned so far is that Wren has not been seen by a single troll in any troll settlement, not even here in Underaura. And this place would be a gold mind for her!”

“Think she in danger?” Argh said, now facing from his seat at the two of them and away from his sloppy letter. Draal stiffened at the thought.

“Of course not! In fact, the longer this nonsense goes on, the more I am convinced she is likely in no danger at all. Had Wren been caught by someone nefarious, no doubt we would have word of it. Bular too would be on our tails, desperately seeking the Amulet.” Blinky said with calculated certainty.

“So...Wren is safe?” Draal spoke up, sounding more hopeful than he intended. Blinky crossed his arms behind his back.

“As we speak, most likely. But I can not be certain of tomorrow, or the day after. Her future is in peril the longer she is away from the protection of Trollmarket.” 

“Then where do we go from here?!” Draal finally snarled, waving his arms angrily. “No one has seen her, Vendel has sent us no word of other kingdoms: she could be anywhere!”

“We look where we haven’t looked yet.” Blinky said, a fist slamming into his palm for emphasis. “Arcadia!”

Even Argh shared the same doubtful look Draal did. “Not make any sense.”

“It does make sense, and I’m ashamed to admit that I did not think of it before!” Blinky scowled, now rubbing his chin. “Think about it! Wren was a scavenger before, it is not like she is adverse to humans.”

Argh’s eyes glossed over with sudden realization. “Wren hiding in Arcadia, as human?”

Draal watched opened mouthed as Blinky nodded. “Are you -- Wren wouldn’t -- are you serious? She might be in Arcadia masquerading among the humans?!”

“At the least, hiding amongst them in the shadows.” Blinky replied. “Whatever the case, we should leave as soon as possible. Perhaps we could travel with that Frek fellow; he could look out for her on his business dealings.”

Argh and Blinky then made plans, discarding the letter to Vendel and agreeing to find Frek to travel back home. Draal could only snort impatiently; it was just like Wren to drive him up a wall with her nonsensical plans and escapades. The more he fell in love with that troll, the more he wondered if she ever changed at all.

Surprisingly, Frek was still there at the hot springs, though they caught him just leaving the place. His one eye grew wide at the sight of three Trollmarket trolls practically cornering him.

“You did say you had no reason to challenge me, right?” he half-joked. Argh gave the Slayer one of his widest smiles and replied.

“No challenge, ask for help.”

Frek smirked now. “What kind of help?”

\----

“The package arrives within the week, my liege.” Strickler announced as he walked in, bowing slightly to Bular. “A troll will be rendezvousing with our man Scarbaach when the time comes.”

“Good. Any news on the runt?” he asked, unusually calm.

“I’ve confirmed the humans that she is working with. Three local boys under Strickler’s care at the school.” she replied smoothly. Bular snorted.

“And yet you exposed yourself to those humans, as well as the runt!” he spat. “The only reason why you live yet is because she does not know of our plans here. Any more mistakes, and it’ll be your head!”

Nomura bowed her head slightly, face contorting in a silent growl but smart enough to not do it to Bular’s face. Stricklander smirked. He wouldn’t have smirked had he noticed a rambunctious little gnome sneaking a head into the conversation.

“Now begone, Impures. Waiting here like a whelp is frustrating enough.” he said, dismissing them and focusing on the pieces building the Killahead Bridge. Chompsky himself could not make it out clearly -- it was covered with a tarp -- but it was enough for him. He turned to leave to report back to his fellow Trollhunters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanonsssss
> 
> Krav Maga -- okay but I'm pretty sure barbara has some dvds laying around the house as a way to get Jim into it
> 
> Human clothes -- Wren loves human fashion, not just because of her fascination with them in general, but also because she actually fits in them pretty well. She is a Q-T okay?
> 
> Troll Settlements -- I like to think that, because the Quagawumps have their own heartstone in Florida swamps, and there are river trolls who live in Arcadia's forest, there are trolls living in other places around the continent too. I tried to make them as varied as possible to reflect what we see in the show.
> 
> Draal -- I feel like he is a big baby when it comes to vulnerability. He only softens and loosens up with Wren when they are alone, and the thought of taking off his kilt in front of other people -- even if its normal for trolls to walk naked if they wish -- is a very Not Good Idea to him. In the show after he loses his place in trollmarket, his awkward side comes out full force; so, I wanted to show that part of him throughout the whole fanfic.
> 
> Exile -- I figured that in troll law, exile only pertains to your own homeland, and/or whatever settlement you happened to be in when the exile occurred. Most trolls mope about this because of their strong kinship ties and loyalties to their homes, but in Frek's case, it was a blessing in disguise. 
> 
> Nomura -- Because she did not expose Killahead Bridge, I figured she would not bargain for her life with the Fetch. So, there will be no NotEnrique in this story. He will show up later in the series though!


	14. Crushes and Bridges and Sewers -- Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fueled by her anger over Lora's death, Wren makes the mistake of tracking down Bular alone, exposing herself not just to the Gumm-Gumm but also to loved ones she was hoping to hide away from. Meanwhile, Jim finds himself getting closer to Claire, while Strickler uses the boy to gain closer access to Wren.

Wren wore her armor as she waltzed about the backyard that early pre-dawn morning. After watching the boys have at it with their ‘training’, she felt silly for not having kept up with her own practice. She imagined Draal before her now as a sparring partner, with Blinky on the sidelines giving her corrections.

 _They would have hated that attack; so sloppy,_ she thought to herself. The flurry of hers slowed down and she paused to take a breath. Practice was much harder without someone to actually practice with. Perhaps she could construct a dummy out here, to use as a target at least; she would have to speak with Jim about that. 

“Alright, done for now.” Wren muttered, taking off the Amulet and dressed in the human clothing once again. In reality she felt dissatisfied -- that was no way to prepare a stake out. After Chompsky reported to her just last night, she knew it was time to do some actual Trollhunting. She instructed the gnome to say nothing to the others, and had him scitter off to Toby’s place before she got to work.

It wasn’t too hard to hide from Barbara (Dr. Lake’s name, as she learned); she came home late that night, but otherwise took a trip to the kitchen for a snack and then presumably went into her room to sleep. What Wren took notice of most though, was her fiery hair. She also had Jim’s blue eyes, and soft face. Despite looking exhausted, she could tell she was a steadfast woman with the strength to perform her duties as a healer, a strength she no doubt passed onto her son. 

Almost like a wake up call to the teenagers and their lives that she meddled with now, Wren was certain to do this scouting mission alone. If the stakes were too high -- if Killahead Bridge to free out Gunmar was truly there -- then she did not want to drag them into this, her promises be damned.

No wonder Kanjigar worked alone, pushing aside his family and friends: he was trying to protect them. Wren faltered a little at the thought, and then noticed that the sun was slowly starting its ascent into the sky. 

Luckily the boys would be busy with their education. They assured her that they would focus on schoolwork and the play, if it meant more time to learn about trolls and training to fight Bular. 

Bustling indoors before the other humans could wake up, Wren mulled her thoughts over something else that had been bothering her: Nomura.

While Wren had continued to mourn for Lora, she did, in a way, move on from her death. There was finality to it: she learned what had happened and why from Draal, she cried it out with Rika, and accepted it all for what it was. It was trollish to move on from death, granted that it was understood.

But, as Wren learned, she never did forgive Nomura for what happened.

The Changeling claimed it had not been her fault, in a way. Some fellow, Krax she called him, apparently pushed Lora in the way when the attack started. Such an explanation did not ease Wren’s ache, but instead made it even worse. An innocent girl was dead, a girl who would not grow into adulthood, and all Nomura could do was shift the blame? An old flame was growing again inside Wren, and she was almost scared of how it was making her feel.

Even with childhood spats with bullies, Wren never felt true hatred towards anyone. She disliked someone, sure; such dislike ranged from annoyance with garish passerby who bothered her on the streets as a youngling, to a distant but understandable fear and anger over Bular. But, she never had anything personal against flirtatious goons, nothing personal with Bular or the father-in-law he killed. That had all been -- well -- impersonal.

But Nomura was different. She was different, solely because of Lora. Lora, as childish and irresponsible as she might have been, was also the only troll her age her ever treated her with fellowship. While the other whelps pushed her around and stole her food, while other younglings would ostracize her for being an orphan, while others began to put her on a pedestal and treat her like a fragile pretty thing the moment Vendel adopted her: Lora was there, simply herself and knowing too well who Wren was in turn. Lora was a sister, and losing that sister had been the biggest ache of her life. 

That was what Nomura took from Wren: her first inkling of family. Because of her, she had no sisterly sidekick to lean on as she grew into a woman. She was all alone in dealing with her apprenticeship, her courting, and her dilemma as Trollhunter. Even with her partying and silly ventures, Lora had always been there to ground Wren in reality. In Wren’s world filled with overbearing men who forged her fate in ways that went against her wishes, Lora was that light of rebellion that helped assure that: no, she was not crazy or terrible for having whims of her own. Bagdwella, Glug, even Rika: they were all older women who followed tradition, and despite their genuine love for her, could not replace what Lora herself had.

Perhaps wishing to go alone to the museum hadn’t been entirely selfless. Wren did not bother to hide that from herself: she knew damn well that a hatred of Nomura was growing inside of her, a seed once dormant and now growing wildly. Wren, having none of her friends and family around to help clear her heart and mind, found herself making the foolhardy decision to sneak into a potential Gumm-Gumm lair.

So be it. Soft-hearted and kind as she was, Wren decided to follow her trollish instincts for once, and seek whatever revenge she could.

For Lora.

\----

Jim did not notice that morning that Wren was standoffish; he had received an early text from Claire that morning as he got ready for school, and nearly dropped the cup of milk he was pouring for the cereal he prepared.

Claire: Hey, wanna meet up before class? :)

Such an emergency, of course, took all of his attention.

Immediately he texted a screenshot of it to Toby, with a “WHAT DO I DO?!” message. Toby replied with excited emoticons and pushed him to say yes.

Toby: Do it dude! You can get there without me. I’ll be with Eli.

So it was a plan. Jim, blissfully unaware of the troll politics brewing about in Arcadia, rushed through breakfast and raced to the door. That was, until Barbara stopped him.

“Hold up young man!” she said, her hair loose and down, and wearing a cozy bathrobe. “I need to chat with you really quick.”

“But Mom, I--”

“You have time.” she chuckled. Rubbing her brow, she said, “I got a call from Mr. Strickler over the weekend, about your grades. He’s coming over tonight to talk.”

Jim’s eyes widened. He did not expect his teacher to make the call. Perhaps he did not want to wait more than a couple days for a response. 

“Uh...yeah, he did tell me I’m struggling a little bit.”

“A little bit doesn’t begin to explain it, from what I was told.” Barbara sighed. “Honey, look, I’m not mad. I want to help! But I want you to know that you are not going anywhere after school today, alright? Whatever this is, is gonna get worked out.”

“Yeah, I’ll be home.” Jim sighed as well. He turned to leave, hoping he wasn’t too late. “Love you Mom.”

“Love you too, sweetie.” she said, walking towards the kitchen as he ran out and slammed the door behind him. There was a muffled ‘Sorry!’ before Barbara watched her son race down the street on his bike towards school. She shook her head and hoped coffee would be enough to start her long day.

Jim made it just in time to meet with Claire, as hoped for. She smiled as he strode up the school courtyard. 

“Hey! And here I was afraid you’d flake on me.” she joked. Gosh, he loved her smiling. And at him, no less.

“No, yeah, I had to do something with my Mom, but we can chit chat.” he said, nervously smiling back. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just...I figured if we’re gonna be in the play together, we could, you know, hang out more?”

Jim’s heart skipped a beat, nearly stumbling over his bike. “H-hang out? Like, together?”

“And alone.” Claire said, now looking a little sheepish. “I really do like being with you, and I felt like we should do it outside of rehearsal, you know?”

Was this a date? Almost date? He had no idea, but he knew Toby would be whooping in victory right now. “That makes sense. I’d love to hang out with you too! When?”

“How about tonight? We could both study for Senor Uhl’s Spanish exam.”

Jim almost said yes, but then lost his smile. “Oh, no, not tonight, sorry. My mom has a thing tonight, and…”

Claire’s face fell too, clearly disappointed. “It’s okay. My mom keeps me busy too. In fact, tonight was my only free night…”

“But, we can plan for another time, right?” Jim pressed. Claire did not look hopeful.

“No, I actually was hoping for tonight, because…”

It was like the world compressed into Jim’s chest. He really, _really_ did not want to actually flake on her, and yet he had to do the dinner with his mother and Mr. Strickler. Unless…

“Hey, uh, if you wanted, maybe you could come with me to my house? For dinner?”

Claire looked surprised, though somewhat hopeful. “Really? But what about your mom?”

Oof, it would be awkward since it was about him. Still, he didn’t want to mess up this chance with Claire. “Eh, it’ll be fine. Just drop by tonight, it’d be nice to have an extra guest.”

She bit her lip, still undecided. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Jim assured her. “I want you there.”

That made her smile again. “Okay, if you say so. I’ll just tell my mom I’m coming over for a study sess.”

“Considering what the dinner is about, we actually should study.” Jim said with a chuckle. “But yeah, see you tonight?”

“Sure. I’ll bring my study guide.” she said with a wink, walking off as the bell rang. He let go of a breath and sagged. Why was talking to her so hard? Why was anything so hard just to be friends with her, let alone trying to date her?

“Dude! You’re gonna hang with Claire?” Toby asked as he ran up to him with Eli. Jim groaned. 

“Ugh, you saw all that?”

“You were on fire, Jim!” Eli said with a thumbs up. “But bummer about Mr. Strickler coming over. Do you think Sadia could ‘hang out’ with us instead?”

Jim didn’t know; she had been unusually quiet since the day before, he realized. They decided to deal with the issue when the time came. Training was important, and could be done anywhere, and Wren had all day to figure something out for them to do.

Wren was of course in the basement. Silently she thanked Vendel for teaching her gem cleaving, for it was proving useful now: bit by bit, with great quiet so as to not alert Barbara upstairs, she had been chipping and cutting away at the basement wall and into the ground beyond it to reach the sewer way. Her job was fastened by the Amulet, which she wore now. 

Her atlas held a hidden map, a local one, showing the underground passages around Arcadia. Perhaps Blinky drew it up himself and stashed it in the tome for safekeeping; it did have his scratched, rushed handwriting. 

Blinky would receive her thanks too. After looking over the handwritten map and comparing it to a human map she found one of the boxes, Wren immediately began the project. With all the trouble brewing in Arcadia, she needed a better and less conspicuous way of going about the town, day or night. The Sadia character couldn’t be her only go-to.

A scattering sound entered through one of the basement windows and into her tunnel, which she normally kept open for fresh air. It was Chompsky, of course, and he looked even more excitable at the sight of her digging project. Wren herself frowned, realizing that if that little scamp could get in, then other things could do. Goblins, primarily. Or a very angry and sharp clawed hand of Bular’s.

Would he try and attack this house? Or other homes? So far only Nomura had, and it was only one home so far. But she knew about the other boys too: and so would Bular. Wren quickened her pace with the digging. The faster she got this done, the faster she could investigate this museum Chompsky scouted at. 

The gnome himself was chattering at her, asking to be a part of her little adventure. Wren shook her head.

“Sorry little one, but this is a venture I must take on my own.” 

“Bah!” came the insolent response. She laughed, pausing to dust off her armor a bit.

“I need you here, with the boys. Keep an eye on them. If anything happens you can always report to me.” she assured Chompsky. He still looked miffed, and crossed his arms, but he shrugged a yes to her. She gently pet the back of his head, making him smile, and thanked him before returning to her work. The sewer wall was close, and if she kept up her pace, Wren could finish this little tunnel before noon. 

By the time it was noon, her ears perked at the sound of a car revving up and driving away. Good, she was alone now. She was inches away from the sewer, and used the last of her energy to go fast and hard at the dirt wall. Chompsky babbled and attempted to help by throwing back random debris that fell.

“Almost there! Almost--”

There was a clunk, and a waft of air rushed inwards. She did it! 

“We got it!” Wren panted, by all means wore out. At least her ankle had been feeling better. She kept the wrappings on in case it could use the support, but otherwise felt no pain. She took a swig of water from a jar and pushed forward. Within the hour, there was a gaping hole in the basement wall, big enough for a troll to enter and leave as they wished. Just what Wren needed. 

After pushing all the debris into the sewer side, Wren grabbed a piece of plywood board and used it to crudely cover the hole. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

“Done!” she laughed, plopping onto the ground and taking off her Amulet. 

Soon. Soon she could figure out what on earth Bular and his Changelings were up to, if there really were a Killahead Bridge. 

_For Lora,_ she repeated to herself, _and for Papa, and Draal, and all the others who are counting on me now._

Soon enough, the late afternoon came. Wren heard Barbara return home, and shortly thereafter, Jim and a friend. Claire, was it? It sounded like her. It sounded like they would keep themselves busy; no doubt Toby and Eli would be busy with their own business too. 

So Wren, knowing that the sun was going to set later in the evening, donned her armor once again with the Amulet. The gnome was still there, and chittered at her again. He did not like that he had to stay behind. Wren smiled and lightly patted his nose with a finger. 

“I told you, I need you here, to keep an eye on the boys. Keep them safe for me, okay?” she asked. Chompsky huffed and puffed but reluctantly agreed. With that done, Wren went behind the plywood, and off into the sewers. The map still on hand, she used it to guide herself towards where the Museum would be. Perhaps there would be a porthole to the surface that she could use, to get onto the street near it?

“No way…” Wren muttered to herself as she reached the place in question. She would be right underneath it now, but there was a trap door leading into what could be a floor above. Of course, it stood quite high above the surface of the sewer. Wren rolled her eyes, and jumped as high as she could upwards, with a grunt. An armored hand grasped for the handle above, but missed it by inches.

“Oh for goodness sakes.” she said in frustration. She jumped up, unsurprised that she missed again. To prevent wasting energy by continually grasping for the door, Wren instead glared up at it, pacing a little. There were boxes and even stools in Jim’s basement; going back for them would waste time though. Well, the sewers no doubt had their own junk piles Wren could use. Perhaps if she--

But Wren did not even have time to finish that thought. An infamously familiar snarl came from the shadows. In a heartbeat, Wren called out Daylight and spun around, sword in a defensive position, but found nothing. At least, nothing that she could see. The countless creatures and waste from elsewhere in the sewers crowded her sense of smell; it was never as strong as other trolls, but such an overwhelming cover up almost made Wren feel blind. Her sense of hearing was no better: everything dripped and echoed similar to footsteps.

 _For Lora, for Lora,_ Wren repeated to herself, trying in vain to allow her fear to heighten her abilities rather than cloud them further, _For Lor--_

There was another snarl, accompanied by a tackle to the ground. Daylight was flung across the hard away from Wren as she shrieked, feeling her arm getting pinned behind her back. Despite struggling to her knees, she knew Bular only allowed her to do so; he could have pushed her down like a rag doll if he wished.

“Weak as ever, runt. You won’t be lucky enough to be saved this time.” he growled, throwing her against the wall. Wren called for Daylight again and stumbled to her feet, swiping around her to deter a future attack. By the time her head cleared and eyes steadied after a second, Bular took out his own weapons and charged.

She rolled out of the way, landing on her feet again and swiping her sword to hit away his own blades. 

“I can save myself, _thank you very much._ ” Wren spat. She walked back step by step as their swords clashed again. “Maybe you should focus more on saving your father!”

Bular roared and pounced, causing Wren to fall to her back. She used her back to roll with the momentum and kick him off. After flipping to her feet, she turned around and blocked another attack, the two of them locking and now inches from one another’s face.

“Do not speak to me as if you can order me about, _runt!_ ” Bular threatened, his red eyes narrowing down at her. He snorted and Wren gave her own growl.

“I have a name you know!” she said right back. Bular got the advantage and managed to force his way out of the parry, causing her to stumble back. Wren shouted out as she twisted around to kick him in the face when he tried to charge her again. He gave his own yell in response. 

It was a tense moment, though incredibly short. Bular found his footing as he touched up to his nose. Purplish blood dribbled out. A mixture of shock, pride, and terror swelled in Wren’s chest.

Wren the Runt -- barely bigger than most humans, fragile enough to feel her body nearly crack under the intensity of the current battle -- made Bular the Vicious _bleed._

Made Bular the Vicious _seething with pure rage._

“Enough of this!” he roared. Wren began to dance around him now: she knew she would have to stop being chased, and turn the hunt around in her favor. And he seemed easily flustered with talk of Gunmar. 

So Killahead Bridge _was_ being built. 

“Don’t think you can get away with this!” Wren claimed. She flipped over him and swung again. “We destroyed the bridge before; it can be done again!”

“One little brat against the coming glory of Gunmar? I doubt it.” he tried to sneer. Bular was growing irritated with Wren’s lithe fighting style. Hardly a week and a half since they fought last and she improved already? Not that he would admit it. 

“Takes a brat to know a brat! Ha!” Wren slid under him with a triumphant laugh, twisting and jumping up at the same time to slash at his back.

Unfortunately, the Sword of Daylight did not touch Bular’s skin. Instead, it crumbled the twin sheaths on his back, leaving him bare-chested and even angrier when he faced her again in a whirl.

“ENOUGH!” he roared. Though blocked by her own weapon, Wren was hit hard enough by his swords to ram into the wall behind her. Daylight clattered at her feet and went up in a billow of blue smoke. Bular grabbed her by the hair before she could call for it again. 

Just as he moved to throw her again -- perhaps planning to crack her head against the sewer wall -- something whizzed in the air and Wren felt herself drop again, onto her side. Bular turned his back to her, growling at a new opponent and blocking the view from her position.

Wren squinted. Her vision was a little blurry, but her ears perked at the sound of a new battle. As she struggled to sit up, she rubbed her sore head...and realized her hair had been chopped off. Eyes widened, still somewhat blurred in vision but better seeing, and she looked at the wall up and behind her -- there was a curved blade stuck in the concrete, wisps of black hair strands flayed from it. On the ground next to Wren was the length of her once wavy mane.

A shout brought her out of the sinking feeling in her chest from her sudden -- though vain -- loss.

“Wren, run already!”

That voice was familiar. Wren did jump up, realizing suddenly that Bular was battling someone further down the sewer way. He was a thinner, athletic figure of creamy beige, a magical and gleaming shield in front of him as Bular relentlessly attacked him. Wren gasped and spun to where the curved blade was, still stuck in the wall.

Quickly she went to the sword, and with both feet braced against the wall, grunted until she managed to pull it out. Eyeing the flurry of movement that was Frek the Slayer, she shouted out his name and flung it in a twirl towards him.

Frek himself watched in shock and amazement as the curved blade flew in an arc, landing directly against Bular’s arm, which had instinctively went up to protect his head when he saw the flying object. 

He gave an angry roar -- _he has a lot of those, doesn’t he?_ , Wren thought to herself -- and dropped his own swords from the pain. The blade was in deep, too deep for Frek to hope to retrieve it now. After a swift roundhouse kick to Bular’s head, the Slayer rushed off towards Wren and lead her down another sewer way.

“What in Merlin’s name did I say! Run!”

“I saved your life back there!” Wren countered heatedly. They made a sharp turn and did not slow their pace. “What were you doing here anyway? I thought--”

“I’m banned from Trollmarket, fair maiden, not Arcadia!” Frek said with a friendly grin. She only then noticed his new eye patch. “Met with your groom here for business.”

Wren skidded to a stop, Frek faltering in his pace to face her. “Whoa! No! I am not following you if Draal is where I think he is!”

Another roar, distant though dangerous, caused him to frown. “Wanted or not, Draal is waiting for us. We must hurry before Bular catches up with us! I already lost my saber.”

“None of this would have happened if you let me fight!” Wren huffed. “I had everything under control!”

“Is being held up like a ragdoll your idea of being in control?”

Wren flustered. She certainly had a plan in place for scenarios like that -- Bular regarded her as a pitiful thing, and as such Wren expected him to treat her like one. Perhaps she would not have gone so far as to cut her own hair, but there were various tactics and maneuvers she would have used to her benefit.

But with adrenaline rushing over and over in her body, adding to it the shock of not only Frek’s appearance but possibly that of Draal and others, and Wren found it hard to put her thoughts into words. Frek took her fumbling as foolishness and with a unrelenting strength, tossed her over his shoulder.

“We’re going _now,_ maiden.”

“You put me down _this instant!_ How dare you touch me!” she growled, beating at his back. “You are lucky that I wouldn’t dare bring out my own blade to bring about your demise! You absolute cretin of a warrior!”

Frek ignored her, his ears perking only to trace any sound from Bular. After a few more twists and turns, Wren had not cooled down a single bit but they had at least gone off from the Gumm-Gumm’s trail. 

“And _furthermore,_ after the incident with Draal in the Forge, you would _think_ you wouldn’t even have the right to--!”

“ _Wren?_ ”

All yelling and fist pounding stopped. Frek slid her off of him and stepped back, allowing Wren to turn around and face who addressed her.


	15. Home, Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draal and Wren have a not-so-happy reunion involving fleshbags and hurt feelings, and returns to Trollmarket with a demand for respect -- though she realizes she has amends to make of her own.

If this was a date, it was the weirdest date Jim had ever heard of.

Claire brought over Spanish homework to help him study, and so they could work together. They did this until his mother came into the living room to get help with dinner.

“Wow! You do all the cooking?” she asked, sounding impressed. Jim was currently working on a sauce as the oil for the steak heated up on the stove. He gave her a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, pretty much. I love it.”

“He only says that to make me feel better about my own sad attempts to feed him.” Barbara half-joked. She walked into the kitchen wearing a pencil skirt and formal blouse, and putting an earring into her lobe. “So, Claire, we haven’t been properly introduced yet. Jim tells me you’re a friend of his?”

“From the school play. I’m the Juliet to his Romeo.” Claire joked lightly. They laughed, but Jim was flushing around his neck, and stirred faster. 

“Just let me know if you need any help, okay? And you really don’t have to offer a hand if you don’t want to.” Barbara told the younger girl. She smiled, already grabbing some dishes.

“No worries. My mom would freak if she thought I was bumming off my hosts.”

Then, there was Mr. Strickler. Before the teacher arrived, Jim had popped down to the basement to check on Wren, only to find it...well, empty. He freaked for a moment, almost dropping his bowl, before Claire called him back up.

“Find those raccoons?” she said with a grin. Jim, though his mind raced about where Wren could have run off too, couldn’t help but share a dopey grin of his own. 

“Nah, guess I was hearing things.”

“Ah, Young Atlas.” Mr. Strickler said, being let in by his mother. “And Miss Nunez as well.” He added with surprise.

“Didn’t mean to intrude, I was just over to help Jim with some homework.” Claire explained.

Mr. Strickler smiled. “Taking some help already, I see. That is a good start.”

Jim sighed in relief. So far, so good. Dinner was served, and Jim was so at ease with things going well, and more interested in talking with Claire, that he missed Mr. Strickler going into the basement, when he mentioned going to the bathroom upstairs. Barbara -- bless her -- was distracted in the kitchen, attempting to make pie.

His eyes peered carefully in the dark, doing his best to sneak his way down without causing any suspicion, should a certain troll be living there. At worst, he would be a nosy human.

But there was nothing, no one there. Strickler frowned and walked further down the steps before reaching the bottom. His dress shoes crunched over something, and looking down with shining yellow eyes, noticed that there was some debris around the place. Minuscule, but noticeable. He traced it to a wall further down, were a large piece of plywood leaned against it. There was a slight breeze in the air, nearby.

With some manipulation, Stricklander pulled the plywood away, and revealed the open tunnel, likely leading into the sewer system if the smell was correct. He grinned, and whisked out his phone to call Nomura. 

“Tell our colleague that I’ve found the target. Have him watch for her down below.” There was a pause. “Yes, of course.”

Strickler hung up and walked upstairs after replacing the wood. This night was going to be interesting indeed, and not just because he found Dr. Lake to be genuinely delightful to entertain with.

\----

“ _Wren?_ ”

All yelling and fist pounding stopped. Frek slid her off of him and stepped back, allowing Wren to turn around and face who addressed her.

“Draal.” she said quietly. And it wasn’t just Draal: there was Blinky and Argh as well, on either side of him. They had their backs to an opening of sorts, where thick metal bars blocked larger creatures outside the sewer from coming in. It was just after sunset, the last of the sun’s rays all but nearly dead from the coming night sky. The hazy blood red tinged around Draal’s light blue skin in an ethereal way that made the moment more profound than it already was.

It had only been a week and a half. Yet a whole world of life and ideas had happened to both Wren and Draal in such a short time. The sudden silence, as well as the sudden scenery of old allies, caused her Amulet to shut off by her unconcious command, exposing her human clothing underneath. She caught it in her hands without even looking at it and ignored the curious looks of her friends.

“Draal…” she began again, shaking a little as he stepped forward. “My warrior, I--”

“You left me like a fool, Wren. Left me and the others to cover up your folly, and went on a rabbit chase, terrified that something would take advantage of you.” Draal began, sounding tense and furious. “And all this time, you were meandering among the shadows of _humans,_ meddling with the danger of _Bular._ ”

Wren, with all the love and worry she held for Draal, hit her own limit. “Oh don’t you start that with me, you brute! Desperate to marry me off the moment you thought I was in danger! Has it ever occured to you that perhaps I am not in need of a petty guard?!”

“You call dedicating my life to you _petty?!_ ”

“I never asked for your life! You pushed it onto mine without even considering what I truly wanted!”

They continued to argue, as if it were the Forge incident all over again and their previous make-up never happened. Frek -- woefully inexperienced in all things related to relationships -- gave a concerned look over to Blinky and Argh. Argh gave an awkward grin, almost apologetic, whereas Blinky merely sighed and nodded, as if to say, _Yes, they_ do _argue like this; don’t expect anything less._

“So what _do_ you want from me?” Draal snarled, leaning over her now. Wren, unrelenting and hands on her hips, looked him straight in the eye when she replied.

“I want you to let me be! Decide things for myself! For goodness sakes, everything in my life has been decided for me like I am some kind of whelp! I dance for you _once_ and your response was to practically drag me to the altar!”

Frek gave an amused smirk. “She danced for you?”

“ _Shut up, Frek._ ” they said in unison. At this point, Blinky felt that they would not find any sort of middle ground, and stepped forward promptly with his top hands clasped together.

“Perhaps we should take our boisterous reunion elsewhere, Master Wren? Bular is still at large, and there is much that I suspect we should fill each other on.”

Wren lost her frustration in an instant. Of course! She would need to tell them about Nomura, and the report from Chompsky on the bridge. 

And the boys! Goodness gracious, she had almost forgotten them. If she were to use them as human spies, she would need to let them know as well.

“Vendel miss you too.” Argh said, speaking for the first time since Wren’s arrival. “Should see him.”

“Trollmarket is safer than here.” Draal agreed. He snorted out his nose, clearly still upset, but calm for now. Perhaps the Elder would be able to find reason in all this madness. 

“I am free to leave whenever I please.” Wren stated firmly. “I am the Trollhunter and I have business on the surface tonight that can’t be left behind. Trollmarket will have to wait.”

“Not without me, you won’t, whether you walk in Trollmarket or on the surface.” Draal said with a finger to her face. Wren slapped it away from her. 

“If you insist on shadowing me, then try and keep up. I won’t wait for you.” Wren spat, walking past him and going to Blinky to lead them to Jim’s home. Draal was too unnerved by her sudden defiance to retort for once, and let it be for now. Frek crossed his arms and fell in line to his side.

“I was...not expecting that.” he said quietly. Blinky was excitedly asking Wren all sorts of questions, questions she was hesitant to answer until they were at Heartstone, Argh grunting his own comments. 

“Wren’s never done the expected.” Draal droned, now feeling...well, just plain tired. After a non-stop trip around the continent and a rather upsetting reunion with his bride who was acting less and less like an actual bride, he no longer felt the need to talk about anything on it. Frek accepted the silence, thankfully, and was happy enough to follow to wherever Wren was leading them.

“I do wonder, Master Wren: what Trollhunting business have you been up to?” Blinky asked after some time.

“Mainly, befriending some...er, allies, here.” Wren put carefully. “I will explain once I find them.”

“...You’ve fought Bular.” Draal got out after some silence. It was strained. Blinky brightened up, as if waiting for the topic to be brought up, unsure of the dynamic between the lovers.

“And twice, I might add! You truly have taken up your role as Trollhunter rather well, all things considered.”

Wren flushed, ears flicking in annoyance. “I am not _that_ pathetic.”

“Indeed. We have sorely misjudged you.” Blinky agreed solemnly. They passed through the edge of a forest, following her lead to Jim’s home. “Is that what you wish for then? To make your own decisions, as you put it?”

“Yes! Absolutely, yes!” Wren huffed, turning on her heel to face the three of them. “I’m sorry that it had to take a public fiasco to _finally_ get that point across, but yes!”

She did not realize that she had shouted. It echoed a bit into the forest, a few nocturnal creatures scurrying away in alarm. Frek and Argh exchanged looks as Blinky’s eyes grew wide from the sudden burst. Draal merely crossed his arms as he responded.

“I’m sorry that it came to that, too.”

“We all are.” Blinky said, urging them along. “We can smooth over it later, when we return to Vendel. Master Wren, if you please?”

Once again, her trainer swerved the two out of another long argument. Is that all they had for one another now? Wren hoped not, and nodded as she lead the way again. Soon they made it to Jim’s home, and they carefully hopped over his backyard fence. Frek and Draal looked confused and uncertain, both of them slowly realizing that Wren’s “allies” were human. Blinky wondered how Vendel would react to all this; Argh himself was more interested in the ceramic garden gnomes in the neighbor’s yard, peering his massive head over the fence that separated the land.

Wren was the first to creep up carefully to the kitchen window, looking in and finding that Jim had guests over with his mother: a taller, older man, and Claire. She smiled; hopefully he was enjoying his time with her. It was about time he brought her over.

Of course, there was the problem of actually trying to get indoors. Wren did not want to risk the sewers again, lest she lead Bular to the basement opening, and she had not her burqa. So after giving a waiting gesture to the others, Wren lightly knocked on the backdoor. Peeking in carefully, she sighed in relief when Jim was the one to get up and answer. His eyes widened when he opened it, quickly walking outside and shutting the door behind him.

“Wren! What the heck! Where have you been? I was trying to find you earlier but you were gone.”

“There’s a lot I need to fill you and the others in on. But right now, my friends and I need to get inside.” she explained. Jim looked over her and did a double take at the trolls hiding in the shadows at the edge of the yard.

“Whoa whoa whoa! This is -- now hold on! --”

“Jim, I just need to get them inside long enough to go into the basement unseen. Can you do that?”

“No! I can not! I have guests!” Jim argued. “Wait, what about Toby’s place? It’s across the street; his Nana is half-blind anyway. It could work!”

Wren blinked. She couldn’t argue with that. After telling him to meet her there after the dinner was over, she lead the others to Toby’s place, where he was hanging outside in his own backyard with Eli, looking through his telescope. They both gave excited greetings at the sight of Wren, and then even more excited shrieks at the sight of more trolls. The trolls in question held themselves back; each had their own thoughts of the fact that their species were known to these fleshbag whelps. 

After hurriedly calming them down, Toby managed to sneak them in easy enough; his Nana, as well as being half-blind, was absorbed in the latest episode of _Mistrial and Error_ on the blaring TV screen before her. 

“I smell cat.” Argh said, smacking his lips. Toby shoved him forward as much as he could for a human pushing a rock-based being. 

“My Nana’s Persian. Could you please hurry up? She’s blind, not deaf!”

They did so, and made it into Toby’s room on the upper floor. It was cramped, though they fit well enough for five trolls and two human teenagers. Wren sighed and sat onto the usual spot she took on the floor, in front of the computer desk. Draal stood to the side, back against the dollhouse next to Frek, while Argh sat down in front of the door and Blinky stood by the window. The boys sat down on Toby’s bed.

Draal sized up the human younglings, and frowned. _These_ were the spies Wren took charge of? The dark-haired one from earlier was taller than the two of them at least, but had skinny legs. 

“Everyone, this is Toby Domzalski and Eli Pepperjack. They’ve been helping me since I came to the surface.”

“What’s up!” Eli piped with an eager wave. He was quite jittery in his seat, never seeing so many “creepers” in one place. Argh innocently looked upwards, and grinned when he noticed the model airplane hanging above them.

“Haha, metal bird.” he responded. 

“That’s Argh.” Wren continued with introductions. “Then Blinky, my trainer, Frek, a friend of mine, and this here is--”

“Draal, son of Kanjigar.” Draal interjected, huffing out his nose, and looking thoroughly un-amused more and more by the second. “Wren, these are _children._ ”

“Children who have saved my skin more than once.” Wren defended. She did not want to let on the guilt she already felt for having them involved; she would deal with that later.

“Yeah! We helped her fight Bular and Nomura!” Toby said, crossing his arms. Draal stiffened.

“Nomura? She’s _back?_ ”

“I...yes. That is part of the Trollhunting business that I mentioned.” she explained. “I have a gnome scout, and--”

“You tamed a gnome?” Frek asked with amusement. He jumped forward a little when he heard the gnome himself chittering in the dollhouse. Blinky pushed forward to look inside of it.

“You have a _gnome_ in a _dollhouse?_ ” Blinky asked incredulously. “Wait, that isn’t the same one from…?!”

“...It is?” Wren said bashfully now, knees to her chest. Goodness, things were just getting sillier and sillier. So what a more perfect time for Jim to enter? He walked in without so much as a knock, peeking his head from behind Argh and smiling wide. 

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late. Nana was stuffing my craw with her pie. What’s up?”

“Metal bird.” Argh said, pointing upwards eagerly. Wren groaned and stuffed her face into her hands. Silly indeed.

\----

After another round of awkward introductions, Draal insisted that they return to Trollmarket at once. The boys begged to follow, but even Wren had to decline.

“I’m sorry, but my father needs to approve your visit first. Humans have never stepped foot in Trollmarket before.”

“But we can visit some other time? Right?” Toby asked. Wren could only give a timid maybe. Honestly, after all she did, Wren would be surprised if Vendel did not try to lock her up in her room for good. Not that she would let him: just as she told the others, she was the Trollhunter now, and would make her own decisions. Sadly though, those decisions did not include whether humans could be allowed into Trollmarket. Amulet or no, that choice was still within the Elder’s power and not her own.

“It’s too bad you can’t come in. I think you’ve earned a right to return.” Wren said to Frek. Genuinely grinning for the first time since they left Toby’s house, they made it to the Arcadia bridge. It was nearing midnight now. Frek touched his hand to his forehead in a formal farewell.

“I have been through worse. They know how to call for me when they need me, once you are on business again.”

Draal grunted, secretly hoping his new friend would be safe, but more interested in keeping Wren in line towards Vendel. He put an arm around her shoulder and they left with Argh and Blinky, the portal closing behind them.

“He was just saying good-bye.” Wren scoffed, failing to shove his hand away. She eventually resigned to laying a hand over his briefly before taking it back.

“That’s not what’s worrying me.” he grumbled. The group fell silent as they made their way through Trollmarket. They had to, as they were stopped every few feet by onlookers congratulating Wren on her return (as they assumed she had been on a demanding mission, as explained by Vendel), and others wishing her good fortune. Wren forced a smile for everyone, clearly understanding that none knew of her true intentions for running off as she did. 

They were met by Rika, once they finally made it to Heartstone. Wren found it odd that she was there, as she rarely made treks to Vendel at such a place. Then again, many things may have changed due to her sudden departure.

“Wren! Praise the Fates, you’re alright.” she said with a great hug. Wren hugged her back, miffed as she was that everyone was regarding her as if she were lucky to be alive. At least for Rika’s sake she would go along with it. No doubt, she was fretting over her as any mother would.

“I am, thanks to Blinky’s training. And...other things, as well.” Wren started carefully. She began to wonder now, how the others would react to her human friends knowing of their existence. The others more or less accepted the boys for who they were, but were frighteningly silent on their own personal reactions to the situation. There wasn’t much time to think about it for Vendel made his entrance. 

“Wren the Cleaver!” boomed a voice. Wren took in a deep breath, turning to face her father with as much dignity as she could muster. He frowned, staff clanking hard on the floor as he marched over to her. Even Draal stepped back with the others as Wren stood before him alone. 

“Papa!...you’re not mad, are you?” she asked with a sheepish grin.

“ _Mad_ would be a _significant improvement!_ ” Vendel bellowed, his tone affronted that she would say such a thing. “First you lie about your intentions with Draal, you make a scene at your own wedding by deserting us at the altar, and then you rush off without so much as a way to contact you to know if you will be safe! Do you know the lengths I had to go to, just to hide your shame?!”

Wren sighed. The guilt from before returned again, and she rubbed her arm. “Papa, I--”

She was cut off, when the staff clanked to the floor and he wrapped her into a large, tight hug. A hand came up to pat her head. Vendel’s voice -- while still stern -- was also gravely quiet.

“Wren, I was _terrified._ I feared you _dead._ ”

Wren hugged him back as she did with Rika, taking her time to soak it in. “Papa, I left a letter to explain why. I had training to protect myself. Do you assume so little of me?”

“And you expect that to comfort your grieving father?” he replied gruffly. Wren stepped back with a huff of her own.

“I’m _not_ a helpless damsel! I’m the Trollhunter, and when I managed to finally make Trollhunting decisions _on my own,_ I discovered things that could put both troll and human worlds in peril!”

“Peril? What peril?” Blinky asked with curiosity. 

Wren pushed back now, as she continued, to face everyone at once. “I have evidence that Changelings are in Arcadia, and working with Bular to rebuild Killahead Bridge.”

“She did mention Nomura, but Killahead Bridge?!” Blinky gasped. 

Vendel’s eyes widen. “Excuse you?”

“That is not something to claim so boldly.” Draal told her, though he looked worried. Wren crossed her arms now.

“I claim so boldly because I must. That night, when Kanjigar went out with my wisdom stone...I think he wanted to use it to find out what Bular was up to. He was onto something, but died before he could find out what. And that ‘what’ is Killahead Bridge. It would explain why Bular’s after the Amulet.”

Vendel fidgeted now, one hand behind his back as another stroked his beard. “This can not be, not right over our heads, not like this...Wren, are you _sure_ about this?”

“Absolutely. I have allies, on the surface. They’ve been helping me.” Wren put forward. Better now than never to explain what she had been up to. “They’re humans, boys who live in Arcadia, and they care for a gnome who has been scouting for me. The gnome found something that resembled Killahead Bridge there, and Bular was with two Changelings. One of them was Nomura.”

Draal growled, his fists clenching at the sound of her name again. “What?!”

“You’ve been working with humans? They know about us?!” Vendel demanded to know.

Argh put in unhelpfully, “She tamed a gnome.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I did! Just -- please, everyone, _believe me._ So much is at stake right now. As we speak Bular is out there, trying to bring back Gunmar. I have no idea how far along the bridge is put together!”

Vendel gave a shaky sigh, still wide-eyed at all that he was learning at once. Rika walked over to help him down on a stool. 

“It’s been a long day. For everyone.” she put forward. “Wren, why don’t you rest, change into something more appropriate? We can discuss more once our heads cool down.”

More appropriate? Wren looked down at her Sally Go Back tee and shorts. It was cute!

 _No,_ that didn’t matter now. She had matters to attend to. 

“I understand...I suppose I should go now, settle down.” Wren conceded. 

“Don’t be long, Wren. I’ve waited long enough for your return.” Vendel replied, now sounding as tired as she felt. She promised him she would, and bid her good byes to Blinky and Argh before departing with Draal. As they made it to the bottom of the steps, Wren placed a careful hand on his upper arm. He stopped walking, though did not look at her.

“...You’ve fought Bular.” Draal got out after some silence. It was strained. Worried. Worn.

“I have.” Wren said, sliding her hand down to his, and taking it by the lead to go to her cave. “Thanks to you and Blinky, I have battled him and lived.”

“From what I saw, human whelps saved you to begin with, and then Frek had to drag you away.” Draal grumbled. Wren could not help but giggle over how absurd it all sounded. 

“Only because he wouldn’t let me finish the fight. Besides, I saved his own skin too. As we speak, Bular has a saber-shaped scar on his person, and likely still recovering from it.”

Draal rose his brows. “You did that?”

“You know, everyone keeps acting surprised that I can fight.” Wren said sarcastically. They were in her cave now, and she walked over to her nest where she promptly fell down in and sighed in its comfort. Nearly two weeks worth of dust accumulated in her home, causing a puffy cloud to form as she landed. Draal smirked, relaxing a little at the sight. But then he lost his smile. 

“My sweet…” he failed to speak. Draal wanted so badly to curl up next to her, pretend that the wedding fiasco never happened, and then rest in her arms. Pretend that they were happy together and nothing would ever go wrong again. 

But now he found himself hesitating. While he would never recoil from her soft touch, he did not quite feel trusting enough to give her his own. Wren must have sensed the turmoil, for she sat up onto her elbows, laying on her belly, and looked up at him with concern. She certainly wasn’t against speaking with him about their disagreements, but he looked more upset than angry.

“My warrior?”

Draal opened his mouth as if to speak. Nothing came out, so he sighed instead and turned to go.

“Rest. I need to as well.”

He walked out before Wren could call out for him. There was a heaviness in her chest now, and she was not sure what to do about it.


	16. WWE-Style SMACKDOWN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren and Draal make up in the old fashioned trollish way, after setting up their human allies with a tool to sniff out the other Changelings among them. Little do they know that said Changelings have a few tricks up their sleeves to stay one step ahead.

_Centuries prior…_

The little whelp was shaky on her legs, but still faring much better than how Blinky found her. The historian and his friend were on a little expedition about Trollmarket, asking fellow trolls if they knew of anyone who may have lost a child. Kanjigar too was exploring the local tunnels and surface forest, in case he came across any clues as to the girl’s sudden appearance. 

Rika and Bagdwella had given her a thorough scrubbing to take off the excess grime as soon as he addressed her scrapes, and after another check over by himself, Vendel allowed the little one to explore the Heartstone he temporarily confined her in. She had thrown a fit through it all, though now she calmed herself by chewing on her fingers and sniffling away the last of her now-dry tears.

A fresh leather skirt, torn off from an old dress of Bagdwella’s, wrapped around her torso now, held in place by a worn leather strap from Rika’s scrap pile. Her pastel pink shoulders looked brighter still against the dark colors of her makeshift gown, and she tumbled about the chamber with the occasional whimper and whine. Looking at the reflection on the Heartstone crystals only made her more upset; perhaps she could not recognize her own reflection?

Vendel noted to himself, watching her carefully as he sat on a stool and smoked a pipe of dry moss. Still chewing on one hand, the girl waddled over to a waste basket on the ground, and pulled it over with her free one. Little scraps of geodes and metal bits fell out and she squealed with a little jump up and down. Bits of drool flung from her hand and mouth as her arms waved about. He smiled despite himself, and blew out a few smoke rings. 

Despite being so frail and little -- not to mention _whiny_ \-- the whelp certainly had a knack for getting into things she shouldn’t. After climbing into the basket and exploring it to the best of her abilities, she shook her head of black hair tufts to rid of the dust, and waddled over to where Vendel rested. He stiffened, quickly kicking back the bowl of dry moss behind his stool and away from her grubby little hands. Messes he could handle, so long as it did not involve things valuable to him.

Luckily the dry moss had not been the object of her curiosity. Instead, she tripped just before Vendel’s feet, gave a sharp shriek in protest, and pushed herself back up to pat her angry little palms onto his sturdy cream legs. 

“Bah aaaah!” she whined to him, before snorting out her nose and bouncing on her feet. The Elder responded by blowing out more smoke. She shrieked again, though in amusement this time, and almost danced in a circle before him to play in the cloud he made for her. 

This time, Vendel chuckled. The girl’s attitude improved mightily, and was chirping happily as she continued to play at his feet with a stray geode piece she found on the ground. 

“You sound like a little bird.” he said to her, recalling his last far off visit to the surface ages ago, just before the dawn. “And prance about like one, too.”

“Ah?” she said, looking at him with a tilt of her little head. Vendel ignored the feeling of paternal affection growing in his chest, noticing that her wide eyes were golden and shining. 

“Wren. You are Wren.” he decided. “Unless someone comes to claim you as kin and names you otherwise. What say you, little Wren?”

Wren blew a raspberry and patted as heartily as she could onto his knees, indicting that she wanted more pipe smoke to play in. Vendel rose a brow, and blew three neat little rings right at her, to her delight: and in a way, to his own delight as well.

\----

_Present time…_

Vendel eyed the three human boys carefully. Critically. 

One was a whelp, barely into adolescence -- Eli, Wren called him. His hair was black and sleek, with box-ish looking reading glasses over his eyes. He chuckled nervously, hands clenched together, when he noticed Vendel overlooking him. The Elder rose a brow, not impressed by his meek nature and tiny frame.

The next boy was not much better. Named Toby, he was shorter than even the other boy despite their age difference, but twice as wide. His brown hair flared out just under his ears, and his green eyes sparkled in excitement despite looking anxious. 

The last one -- Jim -- held onto his arm in a great sense of unease, though he gave his best smile. Black-brown hair framed his bright blue eyes, rounding out an otherwise long face and nose. Of the three, he was tallest, and it showed with how straight he held his back to put on a good face.

Wren stood behind them, out of her human clothes and in a trollish dress, the Amulet dangling on her belt. Draal kept to the side with Blinky and Argh, as unimpressed as Vendel was.

“You brought in children, to Trollmarket.”

“Which is _gorgeous,_ by the way.” Toby put in. Blinky smiled proudly at the compliment, holding onto his straps, Argh grunting with his own grin. Draal’s own face remained unchanged, and only crossed his arms.

Wren could sense the tension, and the obvious conflicting opinions in the room. “I have, Papa. Personally I do not care that they have had to get involved, but it is what it is. They saved my life, and it is an honor that they feel compelled to help me however they can.”

“From what I have gathered from our talk earlier, the three of you helped her battle Bular.” Vendel noted, hands behind his back and facing them. Jim perked up, his smile more genuine now.

“We did! We came across them and distracted him long enough to get her out of there.”

“And then we helped her when a Changeling attacked--”

“Nomura.” Vendel said, with a nod. “As the Trollhunter herself explained to me, as well as discussing the possibility of Killahead Bridge.”

“Oh, the one with Gunmar?” Eli piped in. “What about it?”

Wren stepped in, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Forgive me for not explaining earlier -- things were happening quite fast, and I did not wish to endanger your lives. I went to the sewers that evening to see if the Bridge was at the Museum as the gnome informed me.”

“But then you had a surprise visit from Bular in the sewers instead.” Toby put together.

“Exactly.” she sighed. “I am still no closer to finding out the rest of their plans. How far along are they? How did Bular know to find me there?”

“Pertinent queries indeed, Master Wren.” Blinky affirmed. “What did you have in mind concerning this bridge theory?”

For once, Wren faltered a little. This was what she wanted, right? To make her own decisions? Even if it had been a few days since they all reunited, Wren only managed to get minimal results from Chompsky’s scouting -- he returned to the Museum and found nothing of a bridge like last time. Yet, Bular felt enticed to attack her, just where she suspected activity was going on. 

“It all leads back to the Changelings.” Wren finally said. “We already know about Nomura, but she has Eli’s mother as leverage. We still don’t know about the other one she was with.”

“Gaggletack.” Argh said with solemnity. Draal, for the first time, added his own two cents.

“So you give the fleshbag whelps a gaggletack. What do you think will happen?” 

“They find out who is or isn’t a Changeling.” Wren answered, not liking his tone. “And we can have Frek scout the area too, at least at night.”

“Have an answer for everything, do you?” Vendel noted neutrally. His daughter nodded.

“Perhaps not everything, but I am determined to make it so.” 

With that said, they all left the Heartstone, and walked towards RotGut’s. Blinky began to assault the boys with a more detailed history of Changelings and Killahead that Wren had not provided before, and they were in awe. She smiled, enjoying the look of wonder they gave.

“Too bad it never interested me that much.” Wren half-joked to Draal. “Schooling was always such a bore.”

“I agree.” was all he responded with. Uncomfortable, Wren was happy enough when they made it to the wizarding shop. She stepped forward and gave a hearty knock on the large, decorated double set of doors. A little window opened up, and they were greeted with a large troll eye.

“Ailment or curse?” droned a deep voice. Eli yelped a little in surprise, expecting to walk into a store instead. 

“Gaggletack.” Wren responded. “Trollhunting business.”

“Oh! We have lots of those, a whole bag full! Let me just…”

Another window opened, this particular eye sounding frustrated. 

“What did I tell you, ya big glork? You handle the wizardry, and I handle the customers!”

“But I was just trying to help the nice lass.” his brother said with some mild confusion. The angry one closed his window, arguing with him quietly behind the door, grumbling something about driving up prices.

“Hold a tick.” he said, before closing his own window. Wren groaned. Back when she used to scavenge, they would do this a lot as well when she approached them for business-- argue and take their time about it. There was a reason she often kept her wares with Bagdwella.

Those two don’t seem much different from Draal and I, Wren thought, crossing her arms now. Ever since they reunited, it had been the cold shoulder all over again. This time, however, Wren feared that their courtship was genuinely on the line; she couldn’t blame Draal in the slightest, but she also felt so upset they he wouldn’t just open up to her. 

Before Wren could dig herself into a bigger mental hole, Rot and Got returned to their posts. 

“You’re in for a treat, my good miss!” Gut said, putting on his best salesman voice. “We happen to have just enough for your liking.”

“Good. For payment, I could --”

Wren yelped and ducked as a gaggletack was thrown out, hitting Toby in the face. He gave a loud “oof!” and fell downwards.

“Consider this a thank you for your services, Lady Hunter.” Rot said with genuine gratitude. Gut grumbled about it, but Wren smiled all the same. 

“Thank you kindly.” she told them, and then she faced her friends when their windows closed again. The other boys got a turn to hold and look at it. 

“A gaggletack is...a horseshoe?” Jim asked, confused. Eli gasped and pulled another horseshoe out of his bag.

“What didn’t ya say so, princess?” he said with a proud grin. “I carry one around with me to ward off bad luck!”

“Two gaggletacks! Of pure iron no less!” Blinky said in awe, carefully taking both of them and looking them over. “Warding off misfortune indeed, Elijah. These will help us foil Bular yet!”

“So how do they even work?” Toby asked, deciding to skip ahead to the important part. Blinky spoke up again, in instructor mode. 

“Iron -- exceedingly rare as it is -- is the only magical element that can expose a Changeling’s true nature,” the historian explained. “Should one touch it with their bare skin, their human form will shift into their troll form, and vice versa.”

“I guess we could try it out at school tomorrow.” Jim said, taking one Gaggletack from Blinky and putting it into his own school bag. Eli’s was returned to him.

“Please be careful with them.” Wren ordered, standing up straight. “And by that, I mean be stealthy about it. Take care that what you are doing is not obvious. Is that understood?”

“Got it.” Toby said with a confident grin. “Though, I do have an idea of where to start…”

As they wrapped up their plans and were sent off with Blinky and Argh, Draal finally faced Wren. He rose a brow.

“Since when were you a princess?”

Wren blushed, being reminded of the nickname the boys insisted on giving her. “It’s...nothing. A silly human thing, honestly.”

“Fair enough. It’s time to train, anyway.” Draal rumbled, already moving to lead her there. Wren opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again to follow him. They passed by some shops, where the humdrum of business could drown out any conversation, so she spoke up this time.

“Draal, you did this the last time we didn’t see eye-to-eye on things.”

He frowned.

“I mean it. You would act like I was invisible, barely talking to me. You only talk as much as you do now because of the mission we’re on.” Wren stepped closer to his side, seething inside as he refused to look at her still. “Can we at least talk about what happened?”

Draal paused a little, pretending to be interested in a small stall that sold recycled plastic. Wren huffed.

“Either you talk to me or I’m not going to train with you.” 

That got his attention. His eyes snapped to her and he growled a little. “You are in no position to make demands of me, Cleaver.”

“It’s not a demand to make things work between us.” Wren insisted. “And I mean it: that is my ultimatum! Either you speak with me like an adult, or I don’t train at all, ever. Not even with Blinky.”

“You can _not_ do that!” 

“I can and I will!”

Draal snorted and threw his hands up in the air. “Fine! So what are you going to say to me? Hm? Do you wish to belittle the work I’ve done for you? Betray my honor again? What is it?!”

Wren crossed her arms and looked away, struggling to find her words and feeling stung from the shame. “That’s...that’s not talking like an adult.”

“How would you do this then?” he grumbled. Wren rose her eyes with a risen brow.

“By talking in private, for starters.” she said, using a jerk of her head to gesture to the crowd around them. Draal cleared his throat sheepishly, his eyes bugging out, realizing the attention he was bringing to himself. 

“Uh...your place or mine?”

Wren was about to suggest her own cave home, or even meeting in the Forge, before she held her tongue. Suddenly she smiled, looking excited and confusing Draal further. 

“Actually, I have an idea. Why don’t we go on a date to talk ?”

Yes, Draal was definitely confused now. He scratched his chin. “A date? You mean a time to spar?”

She bit back a bark of laughter. “N-no, I mean...it’s a human thing. And before you bemoan me, please hear me out!”

“I might as well.” Draal said with a roll of his eyes, leading her now, and to the Hero’s Forge no less. Wren wrapped an arm around his despite his displeased snort.

“Dating is...sort of like a human way of courting. But different.” Wren explained, peering ahead to look over the shining crystals all around them. If she were not busy speaking, she would have drunk in the sight of her home more. “Dating can lead to marriage, but not always. It’s more about getting to know someone, and having fun with it.”

Draal sagged a little in response. But only a little. “My courting didn’t please you.”

“Like I said in my letter: it was too much and too fast. I do want to be with you, but...at a different pace and style. I think dating might help with that, help us.” Wren told him.

She watched him carefully now. Brows were furrowed, deep in slow thought, and he tensed a again. 

“And I know I hurt you. A lot. When I ran away.” Wren said more carefully. The crowds around them lessened as they drew closer to the bridge that would lead them to the Forge. “Even if I feel I did the right thing, I also had a choice to open up about my fears first, and give you a chance to listen. If we date, take things slow, I could...you know…”

“You could what?” he asked.

“Earn your trust again.” Wren said, casting her eyes to the ground in front of her. Draal breathed out heavily. They were entering the Forge now, empty and perfectly ready for a private session of training. The Trollhunter waited anxiously as she took a step away from Draal and faced him.

“Could I earn your trust again?” she prodded, looking at him now. Draal flexed his hands open and closed, thinking it over.

“I want to trust you again.” Draal eventually answered, relaxing as he let it out. “Will this fleshbag custom actually work though?”

Wren grew a sly grin. “Considering how wary you are of anything remotely human, what if I propose a wager?”

Now Draal perked up. “I’m listening.”

“We spar. If you yield first, you go on a date with me.”

“And if you yield?” Draal asked, crossing his arms and looking smug as he straightened to his full height. Wren inwardly screamed at herself for taking such a risk, before answering. 

“Then we marry as soon as you wish.”

His eyes widened momentarily and he loosened his arms. “You don’t mean that.”

“From this moment forth, I am a troll dame of my word.” Wren told him, placing a solemn fist over her chest. “If I yield in battle, I yield to your wishes.”

Draal gave it some serious thought. He knew immediately that his answer was yes, but was not sure how to express it. Hope dared rise in his chest again though, and eventually his response was to flex his arms out and crouch a little, just short of putting on a territorial display. A warrior’s display. A display that would challenge her to a fight. Wren’s short hair bristled and her eyes widened at how immediate it all was.

Oh, he was ready.

Draal roared and lunged at her, pinning her to the ground and raising a fist to deliver the first blow. Not in her armor yet, Wren gave a shout of her own and kneed him in the groin. Those yellow and orange eyes nearly popped out of his skull and Wren slid out of his grip.

“Rule number 3!” Wren declared victoriously, donning her Daylight Armor. Immediately she called for the sword and only just managed to wield it in time before Draal threw out his own axe. Though still in pain, he pushed himself to stand up and begin his attack.

The attacks themselves were relentless. Wren cursed herself for not training with Draal more beforehand, or at least watching him more during spars; it could have at least prepared her for his sheer mass and speed. The only reason Wren managed so far was due to the Armor and the fact that this battle was not to the death. 

The fight, without either realizing it before it happened, lead into the streets outside. Immediately Wren took advantage of that, and began using the environment to slow Draal down. Stalls, barrels, baskets, and more were barely avoided as he pushed her farther back.

“ _Oh no oh no oh no._ ” Wren strained out, blocking his attacks and failing to get on the offensive despite her best efforts. They parried a few times, before Wren dropped low, allowing Draal to swing forward from the force of his push, and then jumping up to knock his chin with the flat side of Daylight. He faltered a little, and she used the moment to knock the axe out of his hand with her own weapon. Wren spun around to give more power into her next hit, but instead Draal grabbed the flat sides of her sword, gripped it, and flung her into a pile of crates.

Yeah, that hurt. A lot. Wren flailed in the mess of broken wood before hearing the grinding sound of crystal running along the ground; looking up, she saw Draal leap into the air, uncurl, and bring up his hand with a fist for a landing punch. Knowing that she was much too tangled to move, Wren threw an unbroken crate at his face and hoped for the best.

It wasn’t her best try, of course, but it was enough to get Draal to land just enough to the side and allow Wren to finally roll away into the side street. Only some local gnomes were there, and they scattered upon the arrival of the quarreling trolls. 

“Fight me, Wren! Don’t you run like a coward!” Draal roared to her in delight, already rushing after her. Wren zipped around a corner to a dead end, and turned to call Daylight back into her hand to face her impending doom.

 _Okay, think. Look at your environment. That helped you last time with Frek. It’s gotten you here this far._ Wren pushed through her manic thoughts. Just above her, were a hidden pile of what looked to be bottled glug -- it was in a net, tied up secure in a corner of the stone walls around her. Ah, so they were behind the pub then! Wren wondered how many patrons would hear their battle from the inside.

Wren did not have long to think on that. Just as Draal gave another roar and made to leap at her, Wren used Daylight to cut the rope holding the stash of glug, and jug after clay jug of the green, shining drink crashed over both their heads.

Perhaps Wren should have stepped to the side to avoid being hit. Both of them slipped and fell onto the ground, covered and soaked. Draal growled and tried to wipe his face, while Wren’s armor fell away and the Amulet fell into her sticky lap. It wasn’t until she pushed her bangs from her eyes that she realized how ridiculous they both looked. At least they were hidden from public view to spare their dignity.

The silliness of it was enough to snap Draal out of his berserker mode. He still sat there, in front of Wren, his face faltering as he looked up to Wren. Driblets of glug fell down his chin.

“That...wasn’t bad.” Draal eventually said, looking back down at his hands and back up at her with a smile. “Not bad at all.”

“Thanks to you and Blinky.” Wren admitted quietly now. She sat up a little bit and leaned back on her hands. “So, who yields?”

Draal snorted in amusement, getting on all fours to shake off as much of the liquid as he could, and spraying Wren in the process. “You managed to surprise me. Catch me off guard. I’ll give you that.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.” Wren said, flicking his nose ring. Draal grumbled and stood up, helping Wren up along the way. 

“For my sake, I like to think you yielded. But for yours, I’ll say...I yield.”

It was Wren’s turn to widen her eyes in surprise. “For my sake?”

“I haven’t made you happy. I can’t even say I made you safe, because my actions pushed you away from Trollmarket, and right into danger. More than once.” Draal admitted, rubbing the back of his head now. “If...this ‘dating’ is what you want, if it will keep you close to me...then I’ll yield.”

“We...we can go on a date! An actual date!” Wren nearly squealed, jumping up to give him a hug. “Oh, you’re going to love it! I already have so many ideas!”

“Only if you continue your training.” Draal added sternly. Wren huffed and stood back.

“Of course I will! I made a promise, didn’t I? We talked things out, we’re going on a date, so I’ll train.” she then looked over her messy attire. “I think we’ve done enough training for today, at the least. Papa won’t appreciate my walking around like a sticky gnome trap.”

Draal laughed at that. Wren smiled. It was good to hear him sounding well again. 

“Fair enough, my sweet. But, I do have something else I’ve been wondering about.”

“Oh?” Wren prompted, now following him out to the street.

“...How in Deya’s name did you manage to tame a _gnome?_ ”

\----

Bular watched impatiently as the new Changeling, Otto Scaarbach, fussed about with the package he managed to get from Frek. Growling, he remembered his battle with him before that runt nearly maimed his arm. He rubbed the patched arm now with an unhappy sneer. 

“Does he know about you, Impure?” Bular snapped suddenly. Otto shook his head, having been in troll form beforehand and doing the exchange far from the museum.

“Nein, mein dark prinz. I took every precaution. Ha!” Otto finally opening the box and revealing a new bridge piece. Bular snatched it away hurriedly as Strickler watched. Nomura walked in with a wicked grin on her face, and not just because she watched as another part of the bridge was magically added. 

“You bring news?” Strickler asked her. 

“Of course.” Nomura replied. The other two also turned to face her. “The Trollhunter is back in Trollmarket, from what my source inside tells me.”

“How convenient.” Otto replied sarcastically. “And just how can we deal with this? Having her isolated was supposed to give us the upper hand!”

“So long as the Bridge gets completed and we gain the Amulet, I don’t care what you have to do.” Bular said, eyeing him carefully. It was no secret that his patience grew thinner by the day. “When will the Eyestone arrive?”

“I will expect it within…” Otto paused, chuckling nervously when he noticed the murderous look growing on Bular’s face. He fiddled a bit with his fedora. “Ah...within...the month…”

“A _month?!_ ” Bular spat. Strickler stepped in this time as Otto yelped.

“The Eye Stone is overseas, and gives off enough energy to alert even the human machinery during travel.” he explained, nonplussed by the brutish behavior of their underlord’s son. “The safest way to transfer it over to us is by sea, and then by land. You know, by boat and--”

Bular stopped the explanation short when he grabbed Strickler by the throat, and holding him up. Nomura and Otto both stepped backwards, trying to be as quiet and out-of-sight as possible.

“Do not patronize me, Impure.” Bular sneered. The Changeling gasped a little and gagged.

“Please, Bular, I understand your impatience -- but we want the same thing! We need to be careful if we wish to free Gunmar!”

“My wish is to bring about his return before we are stopped by a _mangy little runt_ of a pretend warrior!” Bular growled before throwing Strickler back onto the floor and hovering over him. “Kanjigar may have been close to discovering our plans, but at least he had been _alone._ Now we have trolls _and_ fleshbags after us: both hot on our tails! Do you really think my father can afford another measly MONTH of this nonsense?!”

“If I may, mein prinz?” Otto dared to speak up. Bular snapped his head over to him and snorted. He chuckled nervously and pulled at his collar as he continued. “If our enemies are ‘hot on our tails’ as you said, then perhaps our focus should be to throw them off of it?”

Bular narrowed his burning red and orange eyes. “...Go on.”

“The troll who delivered that recent package to me, he is the very same one who helped the Trollhunter fight you, as you know. He is still here but also banned from Trollmarket, meaning he is stuck to walk amongst the surfacelands.”

“So that means the Trollhunter will use him as a type of watch man.” Nomura accurately concluded. Otto nodded, looking much more confident now, at least more so than Strickler who only managed to get up and rub his throat.

“Let us...entertain them, for now.” he continued, smirking into his goatee. “Enough so that they don’t know what hit them.”

“To give us the advantage.” Strickler added.

“And buy us time.” Bular grumbled, pleased with what he heard for once. “You have my permission to stall them, then. For now.”

The three bowed their heads, waiting until the Vicious walked out of the storage room before they would draw a breath of relief. They certainly couldn’t complain of a boring life.


	17. A Game of Troll and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren continues her work as Trollhunter with her troll and human friends alike. However, it may not be enough to catch up with Mr. Strickler and his slick tricks.

The attempt to lick her wounds after battle with Draal -- unnoticed -- failed, as Rika caught Wren just as she wobbled back to her own cave after she and her groom departed. News spread fast, as usual, and the midwife did not bother to state or ask the obvious. Though, she did wear a knowing smile.

“I assume it was in good spirits that you went and almost broke yourself?” she said, taking her into the Heartstone. Wren noticed some of Rika’s tools there, some spread about with Vendel’s things. Her brows rose.

“Since when are you and Papa work partners?”

Rika smirked. “Don’t dodge the question, dearie.”

Wren rolled her eyes and obediently sat onto the bench. Rika checked over some cracks in her skin before she spoke up again. “If you absolutely have to know, Draal and I made a bet. In good fun. That’s all.”

“Of course.” the midwife chuckled, applying some ointment to the shallow wounds. Wren bit her lip a bit to hide a childish grin. She even kicked her feet a little.

“You shouldn’t dodge my question, either. What’s up with you and Papa since I left?”

Rika scoffed and pushed harder than needed into a particular crack on Wren’s arm, making her hiss, before looking at cracks on her head from her fight with Bular. “Your father was greatly upset by your sudden and dramatic leave of absence. As a mother of a lost daughter myself, I gave him my time to ease the pain.”

Wren lost the smile immediately. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Please don’t think I’m trying to shame you. What’s happened happened, and I for one am sympathetic as to why you ran away, despite feeling it was foolish to do so.” Rika explained, now facing her. Her amber eyes locked onto Wren’s. “You were scared, alone: but you found what you were looking for. Until you had, Vendel needed his own answers and comfort. In that, I was happy to give it.”

A leftover rag of ointment was sat down onto a bowl. Turning away from Wren, Rika wiped her hands on her skirt. “Now that you’re back, you can be a proper daughter again. He missed you, you know. He was terrified.”

“Yeah, so he told me.” Wren said softly. Rika faced her again and smiled gently, holding her face up.

“I only say this to help you. Things are better between you and Draal; Blinky and Argh, though critical of your actions as well as I was, are happy enough to take you back in. Now all that remains is Vendel.”

Wren sighed. “I suppose I do owe him a cup or two of tea.”

“Or a tankard of glug.” Rika chuckled. “But relax, enjoy the time you two have together still. It is so precious.”

Now refreshed, Wren allowed Rika to lead her out of the chamber. Just as they entered the stairway downwards, she was stopped again.

“What is it?” Wren asked. Rika played with her hair a bit with a frown on her face.

“After tea, we’re getting this mess trimmed up. And I thought those human clothes you wore were awful!”

\----

The next week proved unfruitful even with the gaggletack, though the boys had their suspicions about Mr. Strickler -- Toby and Eli, anyway. Jim was adamant about his beloved history teacher not possibly being a Changeling, though not to much avail.

“If what your friends have told me is correct, then the man’s behavior about your respective gaggletacks is reason enough to suspect him as a possible target.” Blinky gently corrected Jim. “Of course the possibility of your own teacher as an enemy is disheartening; I certainly hope for your sake that we are wrong.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jim relented. 

“I’ll have Frek follow him.” Wren said, silently giving the order to Draal to send the message. He nodded in agreement. 

“He’s a slick one. I don’t doubt he’ll come up with something to our advantage.”

“In the meantime, we must consider the safety of our human friends.” Blinky brought up carefully now. Gathered in his library, it was not hard for all to lean in and carefully listen. 

“Safety? But we already started training with you guys.” Toby said. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m super sore but also _super stoked_ about it.”

“A week’s worth of training can only go so far.” Wren said, knowing this from experience. “But, even if you were well-trained, you don’t have protection the way Trollmarket does in your own homes.”

“Exactly. Which is why I have already made placements for who watches over whom.” Blinky started. He first pointed at Jim. “James, I will watch over you.”

“Neat.” he said with a grin. 

“Argh is with Tobias.”

The two also smiled, Toby giving the larger troll a fist bump. Wren smiled, happy to see friendships forming already.

Eli looked worried now. “I’m not getting Draal, am I?”

Draal loudly snorted on purpose, knowing it would make the boy jump -- and it did. He laughed before Wren hit him in the arm to stop. 

“No. In fact, I figured Frek would be a good placement for you. He already patrols your street, after learning of Nomura’s attempt to attack there.” Blinky explained. At this, Eli visibly brightened.

“Awesome!” he said, fists in the air. “He’s gonna love the attic!”

“It’s good to see you boys excited over this, though we have more pressing matters to discuss, before you all part. We have Bular and the Changelings to worry about now.”

“Too bad we didn’t find a Bridge when we went to the museum yesterday. We even snuck around in the no-passing zones!” Eli said, discouragement in his voice. “But Chompsky really does think he saw the Bridge.”

“And I believe him. I just wish Papa would too.” Wren noted with annoyance. 

“I guess that just leaves trying to pin down Strickler, huh?” Toby continued while snacking on some popcorn he grabbed from his backpack. “If he’s a Changeling, he could tell us where the Bridge is hiding.”

“I still say he’s no Changeling.” Jim mumbled.

“And I can’t agree to that until we prove otherwise.” Wren said, looking more serious now. She was about to continue before Jim’s phone rang. A picture of Claire lighted up on his screen with a Papa Skull’s ringtone.

“It’s your girlfriend!” Eli shouted. Toby immediately scooted over to Jim’s side and began pestering him.

“Girl friend?” Blinky asked, looking at Wren, who was smiling.

“A young lady he fancies.” Wren corrected for Eli quietly.

“Answer it dude! Answer!” Toby said.

“I will, just hush already!” Jim spat, already flustered and almost dropping his phone. He answered as Wren and Blinky watched carefully.

“Oh crap I think it’s on speak--”

“Hey Jim! What’s up?”

Everyone in the library grew deathly quiet; even Blinky looked excited to hear the conversation, new to the idea of cellular phones and human social interactions. 

“Uuuh nothing much, just hanging out. Heh heh...so how’s your study group?” he answered.

“We’re ‘studying’ at the pizza joint right now.” Claire said with a giggle. “Why don’t you come over? Your friends can come too.”

Jim got wide-eyed and looked over to Wren for approval. Even though Toby was urging him to say yes, and Eli nodding along, it was still the Trollhunter’s call. Jim covered the receiver as she answered quietly.

“Go ahead, have fun.” Wren said with a smile. “I’ll let you know if I need you back.”

“Yes! I mean, yes, I can definitely meet up with you.” Jim confirmed, taking his hand away. 

“Awesome! We just placed an order so it should be done by the time you get here. See you soon!”

“See ya.” Jim said, almost in a daze. As soon as he hung up Toby jumped to his feet. 

“C’mon let's go!” he said eagerly with a sly grin. “With her friends there I can make my own moves.”

“My mom says I’m not allowed to date yet.” Eli said looking sheepish. “And that I’m not allowed to date older girls either…though me and Frek could hang out and see if anyone in town looks suspicious.”

“Of course! I very well don’t expect you boys to go anywhere unguarded.” Blinky said, stepping forward. “Keep those gaggletacks close, boys, and enjoy yourselves.”

Jim grinned. “You’re gonna love pizza, Blinky. Wren downed three whole ones herself.”

“Two and a half.” she said, flustered. With that they all split up, the older boys meeting with the girls, and Eli following Wren and Draal to his home where they found Frek camped out on his roof.

“A human home is strange, but a home nonetheless.” Frek told Eli with a wry grin, after being informed of his new job. “I don’t mind guarding it at all.”

“You’re gonna love it! My mom is kinda strict but it’ll be cool! We have so much recycling, eat as much as you want.”

“Oh?” Frek asked. Eli dragged a recycling bin over to him from the porch, showcasing glass bottles. Draal smirked and elbowed Wren to watch as the Slayer salivated over the treats within.

“Did I say strange? I meant bountiful!” he laughed, taking one to eat. Just then, Blinky came over the fence, getting their attention.

“How are the rounds going?” Draal asked, leaning against the porch post as he sharpened his axe.

“Nothing to note, as of yet.” Blinky explained. “The boys are keeping an eye out and Argh keeps watch. Though, I am curious, Wren...have you considered doing your rounds, in your human disguise?”

Wren blinked. While she had re-visited Eli’s mother as Sadia, and continued to be gifted with human clothes from the boys, she had otherwise left the character at the back burner. It seemed silly to keep up the act when the Trollhunting team expanded.

“I haven’t. Why?”

At this point, Blinky tapped his fingers together, a wild smile growing on his face that screamed, _I have a magnificent idea!_

“You know how enamoured I am with human culture, and with the Changeling threat in our midst...well, of course I admit to my ulterior motives to being slightly selfish, because to watch you in action would be a treat! But --”

“You want me to go around town as Sadia Ali and have you watch from the shadows?” Wren finished for him. Draal gave a thoughtful grunt. 

“We follow Wren, and Wren leads. And we’ll be there if a Changeling is found.”

“That’s the plan” Blinky confirmed. “And Eli, you can go with Sadia as a friend. Is that alright?”

“Works for me! Where to first?” Eli asked Wren. She thought for a second, and then smiled. 

“Frek, have you found out Strickler’s routine yet?”

\----

“There’s another human fellow that he meets up with too. Shorter, pudgy, wears glasses and a funny hat. It’s hard to get close though, it’s like they can hear me or something.” Frek told them as they went their way. “That and human buildings are hard to waltz into.”

“True enough. But we need to find a way to follow them inside.” Draal said. 

“The kids know the tall, skinny one, right?” Frek asked, and immediately Draal scowled.

“I’m not going to send whelps in after possible assassins, much less fleshbag ones. Wren may do as she likes with them but I won’t allow them in my care.”

Frek shrugged. “Suit yourself, but we’ll have to ask Blinky for advice on what to do. A week’s worth of following them isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

“That’s why _I_ plan to follow them instead.” Wren announced from behind. They dwelled near the tunnel to Jim’s basement, and when they turned to face the Trollhunter, they found a burqa-clad Wren followed by Blinky, Eli trailing along them. Draal rose his brows in amusement.

“That’s how you dress? As a human?”

“What? You prefer I show my face?” Wren teased with a laugh. She then faced Frek. “Anyway, Eli and I are going to go out on the town, and just so happen to bump into Strickler and whatever friend he has been seen with. Any leads on where they might be?”

“At this time they meet at the central park, near the statue. If not there, then sometimes they’ll go into the museum or at a restaurant.” Frek informed her. She nodded. 

“Looks like we have our work cut out for us then. A tour sounds in order, no?” Wren said, holding out her arm to Eli. He took it with his chin in the air. 

“Of course, princess!” he announced, and he lead the way to the surface world.

Frek had been left behind with Argh to watch over Jim and Toby at the pizza place nearby, leaving Blinky and Draal to keep an eye on Wren and Eli. The two rarely had anything to discuss outside of what needed to be said, so it was a quiet stake out. 

This left Draal to his thoughts, his eyes darting around the noisy, human environment with intense hearing. In particular, he thought of his bride, and what their future would bring.

Draal and Wren butted heads many times, both of them -- it was simply in their nature. It was Trollish nature! Ballustra, his own mother, was hot-tempered, matched only by her own son’s short patience, and had little qualms about challenging her mate Kanjigar to a fight to settle matters. Kanjigar was more firm and quiet, but just as stubborn, and would sneak a grin whenever he managed to get Ballustra worked up into a battle. The aggression would work itself out before they became clear headed enough to figure out what was truly important for them in resolving things.

Wren -- as he found -- was similar, though more subtle and gentle. _Boy_ could that girl argue and put up a grand fight with words alone; it was a source of great frustration, even if down the road Draal came to admire her own kind of stubbornness. After their own little spar from the week previous, Draal admired Wren’s brave heart all the more. She was truly coming out of her shell.

Though, the whole “date” thing was still a source of uncertainty for him. Draal wondered what Wren had in store for the affair, and sadly, she hardly had the time to even think about it -- they busied themselves with stake outs, guarding the boys, and collecting whatever information they could to defeat Bular and stop him from building the Killahead Bridge. 

Yet, it was nice to be with her again. Draal missed nuzzling into and resting in Wren’s lap -- more than he would dare admit even to her.

“Up ahead.” Blinky whispered, interrupting his thoughts and peeking over a bush. Behind a tree, Draal watched as Wren and the boy entered a quaint-looking book shop, it’s front windows wide and filling the sidewalk with light. Just visible, in the far back of the store, was Mr. Strickler, leafing through a rather worn textbook of some sort. The warrior snorted out his nose as he saw Wren roam the rows of books, getting closer without the maybe-Changeling noticing. 

“Easy, she’s doing fine.” Blinky muttered to him. Draal couldn’t argue with him; even the boy was acting smart, keeping close to the entrance to have a front view of what was happening. 

But it was _Wren._ He wanted her _safe_ and _happy._ Not for the first time, he wished that the Amulet had chosen him, or better yet -- that his father did not have to die to begin with. Only her growing skill in battle settled his nerves now.

“He’s noticed.” Blinky narrated. While Wren kept to a book she pretended to read, Strickler stiffened when he looked up and spotted Eli, and the boy nervously tried to focus on some books on display in the window. At that moment, Wren put the book down and pretended to be interested in something at the other side of the store, avoiding Strickler’s line of vision as she quietly followed him when he walked towards the back. Now he was out of sight. Eli, not knowing what else to do, walked outside and went to the shadows where he knew the trolls would be.

“I think he tried to make a run for it!” Eli said. 

“I agree with that assessment! Wren will be on his tail.” Blinky replied. Draal grunted and moved to get closer to the buildings. 

“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go after him!”

“There’s an alley in the back!” Eli piped, before Draal rushed off to leave the other two behind. Just as he made it, Wren bursted through the back door and entered the alley way herself, her clothed head whipping around to look for the Changeling. She and Draal looked at one another in confusion before a cat yowled behind the trash can and darted away from the two of them. It ran past Blinky and Eli as they both met with the others.

“Where did that Impure go?!” Draal growled, sniffing the air. 

“Did you two see anything?” Wren asked. Eli shook his head.

“No, we thought you would have him for sure.”

“Then he must be inside!” Blinky asserted. Wren yelped, not considering that possibility though she rushed inside regardless. She was certain she saw Mr. Strickler dart through that same door she exited. She knew she saw him do it! So where could he be?

Just as Wren thought, he was not anywhere in the shop. Wren grumbled and made an exit for the front door, but not before spotting a book that caught her eye.

It was a children’s book of fairy tales, a knight and princess on the front cover. The cover art was gorgeous: the binding itself was leather, and the illustration displayed was rich in color and soft stylization. Her heart hitched a little before daring to reach out and flip through the pages. Inside, the drawings were just as beautiful. Though her English was not as great as her Trollish, it’s simple storytelling was enough for Wren to understand. 

Immediately Wren grabbed it and went to the teller. Thankfully she had some human money on hand, and while it was supposed to be for emergencies, the Trollhunter followed her heart’s desire once again for her own silly reasons. The book was bagged soon after purchase and Wren left the store, bag in hand. 

“Are you quite ready, Master Wren?” Blinky asked, subtly glancing over the bag. “We should continue our rounds, post haste.”

“Of course...just wanted to blend in a little. Human women love to shop, after all.” Wren said. She was quite glad that her face was covered; otherwise, both her trainer and her guardian would have seen the obvious flush growing on her face. Wren and Eli continued their walk around the town, unaware of a cat eyeing the group before rushing off into the night.

\----

“You were right -- we were being followed.” Otto said as he got into a car. He transformed back into his human disguise and buckled in. Mr. Strickler looked unsurprised. 

“Bular will want to know immediately.” he said as they began to drive off. A few goblins in the back heckled Otto and snatched his hat. “We can’t have the whole team interrupting our own nightly duties.”

“Or do we?” Otto put in, grinning now that he got his hat back. Strickler glanced at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Did Bular not allow us to get them off our trail, so to speak?” he pressed, tapping fingers on the door frame as he watched the sights pass by. “They do not know of me much nor of my polymorph abilities, but they may discover your identity soon. I am the best weapon you have against them.”

Strickler paused as they reached a stoplight. Then he smirked. 

“And I know just the thing to draw the whole lot into a trap, and snatch the Amulet once and for all.”

Now it was Otto’s turn to look curious. A grin grew in his place as they made their way to a building at the edge of town, and walked inside, not to be seen for the rest of the night.


	18. An Invitation and A Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Changelings make the next step in their plans to lure the Trollhunter into their trap once and for all, Otto going solo for his part of the mission. The Trollhunting team settles in and get to know one another better -- having a few disagreements along the way.

The other night had been far too close for comfort. After confirming that they were indeed being watched, the three Changelings laid low for the time being to form their next move -- as low as assassins could get, anyway. Even Bular was content enough with them keeping out of sight but he did give them one final order after hearing their idea for drawing in Wren.

“The Trollhunter may not be able to track us down further,” Bular mused to Otto, “So give the runt a taste of her own medicine, while we still have the upper hand.”

Otto chuckled darkly, bowed, and made his leave without need for explanation. 

Strickler and Nomura, too, were given orders to do what they could to spy on the girl. Knowing her Sadia persona well enough, Strickler decided that it was time to draw the hunter out to the surface, where she would be most vulnerable. 

Nomura shared a rare smirk with Strickler, folding the invitation and handing it over to him. 

“Be sure and give this to Jim. He trusts you still.” she told him. He nodded, stuffed the envelope into his pocket, and left. Now it was time to do a little spying of their own in wake of the Eye Stone’s arrival. Thankfully, it went off without a hitch.

“Really? Are you sure I should have it?” Jim asked just after their history lesson ended for the day. Mr. Strickler nodded. 

“Of course, Young Atlas. It’s a showcase of international cuisine. Your guidance counselor noted to me how you expressed interest in culinary school. At the expo, you’d at least get to rub elbows with other professionals, get a taste of the world in ways you wouldn’t otherwise.”

“My mom works that night…” Jim said lamely, knowing full well that she was off and planned a girls night out on that date, and he actually had training to worry about. But his teacher smiled so kindly and with such encouragement, that Jim could not help but smile back. “...though I think she’d be okay with me going with a friend.”

“Of course. Actually, speaking of friends, I heard from your own mother about a Miss Sadia Ali?”

“Yeah, she’s a tourist in town. Why?” Jim played off nonchalantly. Oh, the boy did try. Mr. Strickler humored him and continued. 

“Well, if she’s here to get the American experience, you could offer to take her as a plus one.” he said, knowing full well that Jim would rather take Claire. It was painfully obvious that the two got along swimmingly; even the teachers were making bets as to when they would make their first official date. If that boy showed up with “Sadia” rather than Claire, well...that would certainly prove his loyalties, wouldn’t it?

Strickler hated the thought of working against his own students -- especially Jim. He was a bright, hardworking boy, and the teacher had many plans for him and his mother in a future with Gunmar -- some humans would naturally survive the invasion, and Strickler figured the smarter ones could at least be among them. By associating with the Trollhunter, it only made his job that much harder. 

Jim gave his best smile and stuffed the invitation into his backpack. As always, he was oblivious to the turmoil in Strickler's mind. “I’ll talk to my mom about it. She always has an opinion on what I should do.”

“I would hope so, Young Atlas!” Mr. Strickler called after him as he left. He fiddled a bit with his pen, staring into empty space, and hoping that things would turn out alright for the Lake family.

\----

“A cooking expo? At the museum? That’s not a coincidence.” Toby said dryly, reading over the particular font. 

“Mr. Strickler knows I wanna be a chef. Big deal.” Jim tried to defend him. The invitation was passed over to Wren at Eli’s kitchen table, where she wore her burqa sans head and face covering. It had been a long day of training with a very unforgiving Draal for all of them -- Wren in particular -- and she was ready to pretend being human again with her human allies. Blinky examined a fish tank in the living room, Argh almost dunking his nose in to sniff the creatures in it.

“Culinary shows? You humans sure make a big deal about food.” Wren said, setting down the invitation. “And it doesn’t even taste that great. I mean, pizza is good, but everything else has been blaise.”

“Ah, but imagine how it might taste, if you were to have the human tongue and senses!” Blinky shouted from the other room, sounding quite fascinated. 

“It would be awesome to cook for trolls.” Jim said with a laugh. “But with this expo, and it being at the museum…”

“You wanna do a stake out?” Eli interjected. “The invitation is only for two people though.”

“So it would be just Jim and I. Blinky, do you think any of the trolls on our team could check out the building on the outside and in? Last time I tried to check it out myself, Bular was waiting for me. We’ll need whatever muscle power we can bring in.” Wren asked. By now the two walked in, curiosity satisfied, and stood by the table.

“Most certainly, Master Wren. The question would be, who, and where?”

“Argh stand watch outside.” he rumbled with a wet nose. Toby chuckled and helped to wipe it with a paper towel, which the hairy troll happily accepted with a goofy grin of his own.

“Yeah, me and Argh can make a good team!” Toby explained. “Did you see us fighting today? It was awesomesauce! We got it covered.”

“Me and Frek could sneak in to watch inside!” Eli offered. “I know every room, I go there all the time.”

“Good, that just leaves Jim and I to--”

“Now hold on one second, this is _my_ invitation.” Jim insisted, snatching it up from the table. “I still don’t think Strickler is a Changeling.”

“Even after all that fishy stuff he’s been doing? C’mon dude.” Toby argued. He patted his backpack with the gaggletack in it and added, “All we need is one touch. One touch with the ol’ horseshoe, and then we know for certain.”

“And Frek says he hasn’t gone to any of his regular spots either.” Wren said. “Going to that expo next week could be our chance to not just out Strickler, but also see if we can find evidence of Killahead Bridge.”

“Precisely why we greatly desire your cooperation, James Lake.” Blinky finished for her. The boy clearly looked frustrated and uncertain about it all.

“Is...is it alright, if I just sleep on it? Give you an answer later?” he asked. Wren hummed with impatience, but otherwise did not push it.

“I understand. But please consider what this could mean for us. If we can find a better opportunity before next week, then I won’t bother you any more on the matter.” Wren told him. Jim relaxed and sighed. 

“Thanks. It...it really does mean a lot to me, you know. Not just the whole expo thing, just…”

He went quiet, feeling a little guilty now. Toby, as much as he disagreed with Jim, understood what he was getting at. As a true best friend would, he placed an arm over his shoulders and gave him a little shake.

“Hey, we get it. You never get to do stuff like this. Usually you’re taking care of your mom or catching up on schoolwork.”

“Or chasing after creepers.” Eli added. 

“Or _training_ to chase after creepers.” Toby said with a prod to Jim’s shoulder.

“You know, if you feel you are carrying too much responsibility, we can always do what we can to help.” Wren added, sounding more gentle now. She certainly understood what it was like, to lose a sense of fun and freedom, and felt silly for forgetting that Jim needed a break as much as she did. Jim perked up.

“What? No! I really want to help.” he insisted. This time, Blinky added his two cents.

“Nonsense, James! You are all only whelps after all, younglings to be precise. And you three all bear the brunt of being our double agents.”

“But…”

“Jim trust us.” Argh said, seating himself next to Toby. “Trollhunters, not one Trollhunter.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking back down at the table. “If...if you guys really can’t find any other way to get to Strickler...then I’ll give the invitation to Wren.”

“And we’ll make sure it won’t have to come to that.” Blinky said with a grin. “Though, you must do your part as well! Being Strickler’s student, after all, at least gives us some time to study him at this school of yours.”

“Yeah, the gaggletacks aren’t working out.” Toby sighed. “I swear he’s onto us.”

“I fear Eli and I’s mix up with him at the bookstore that night did not help matters much.” Wren said. “Oh well, we will think of something. We should head back to Trollmarket now, and you boys should ready yourselves for a night’s sleep.”

“Yes, Princess Mom.” Jim said with an amused, sarcastic grin. He and the other boys laughed when Wren flicked his forehead.

“Don’t push it. You all have to keep up appearances, and Blinky told me you humans need at least nine hours of sleep when you are growing! Eli, you’ll need about ten.”

“As it is, we will all follow our charges home.” Blinky stepped in, gesturing for Jim to follow after him. Argh nudged Toby to the back door, as Eli waved goodbye to go up the stairs. Wren followed the others with Argh to Eli’s backyard, where they found Draal standing guard. She found herself alone with him, as Blinky and Argh already went their separate ways. 

Wren smiled gently. For once, they were alone, and had time to relax. Perfect!

“I hope Frek isn’t overworking himself on those rounds he does. He’ll need to get to Eli’s home soon.” Wren said. By now she took off her burqa and folded it neatly under her arm. It displayed the new outfit of the day -- she wore a trollish shirt, but with a sari skirt wrap instead of her usual leather one. Her Amulet hung on a metal chain she wore around her neck. Draal eyed the get up carefully. Similar, if simpler, styles were worn by troll dames a-plenty, yet the material was too colorful, too delicate looking. 

“The Sadia disguise I understand.” Draal said bluntly. “But...not this. Why do you insist on looking like a human?”

Wren bit her lip. “Actually, I kinda...was hoping you would like it. For our date tonight.”

Draal perked up. “Our date?”

“It’s nothing too fancy, but I knew we would have some time off tonight, to be alone.” Wren continued, reaching out to hold his hand. “You know, like you promised?”

“I still have no idea what this date even means.” he admitted. She lead him into the forest nearby.

“It’ll be nice, I promise. I’ve seen Jim do it.” Wren began as she found a path she wanted. “Humans go on these dates to get to know someone. They do things that are fun and new, and talk about things they like.”

There was some hesitancy in Draal now, knowing that Wren’s plans from the past often went haywire. There was something else egging on his mind too, something he was not afraid to point out as they passed through a little meadow.

“Why is it so important for you to do this then? This dating? You are eager to try it yet I am unsure myself.”

Wren did not respond right away, but sat down on what looked to be a large woolen blanket, their backs sitting against a boulder. Draal followed her lead and noticed numerous fire flies flickering on and off around them. Wren continued.

“It’s just…everything was so intense, so fast.” she said, pulling her legs behind her and rubbing her arms. “I wanted to be with you, to see where it would take us. But right away you made a claim on me, without asking me about it.”

Draal’s face fell. “As we’ve discussed...”

Wren sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, my warrior. I liked the _idea_ of it, but I needed time. To get to know the deeper you, to learn what made you tick, what could make _us_ tick. With courting, all you do is act as if we were together to begin with, and figure out the wedding date.”

“And dating is…not that.”

Now she smiled, looking up at him and placing her hands in her lap. “Dating sounds so nice! You just relax and enjoy the present moment. Things unfold naturally. I…I really do want that with you.”

A little pink hand laid over a large blue one. “Is that okay?”

Draal let out a breath, trying to take in what she said. He did like the idea of living in the moment, at least. “So you want to have some fun then?”

“Just the two of us, no pressure to do anything in particular.” Wren said. “Though, I do have some food somewhere, hold on–”

Wren got on her hands and knees, crawling over to a dead tree trunk and pulling something out of it. When she returned to her seat, Draal found it to be a wicker basket, something like she used to carry her foraged gems and minerals, but with a woven lid to cover it. Uncovered, and she revealed the surprise inside: a bottle of fresh glug, and a case of battered CDs. His eyes widened.

“Oh!” he said as she opened the glug for him to drink. Wren smiled.

“First, a nice dinner as we converse about life.” she began. “You know, you never did give me all the details on how you and Frek met up again.”

Draal smirked, clanking his bottle against a CD of hers in a mock toast. “I have not. Let’s fix that.”

Neither of them took notice of the trees slightly bustling their leaves, assuming it was the breeze.

\----

The boys were rather dutiful to their schedules and reported home. Eli, adoring Frek from the get go, absolutely bombarded him with conversation and questions the moment he snuck in through the attic window.

“So where do you come from? You never go to Trollmarket so you lived somewhere else, right? Did you move here? I moved here last year from Washington state, but my dad’s in the Army and gets new posts a lot so we’re in Arcadia now. He’s away most weeks but always tries to visit. You’re kinda like a soldier, right?”

Frek gave a weak smile and sat down on the dusty rug, leaning against a wooden box of Christmas decorations. “You know, normally it’s considered proper etiquette to say ‘hello’ first.”

“Oh! Oh. Sorry.” Eli said bashully, taking a seat across from him. He grabbed a fleece blanket and flashlight, turning it on to light up the otherwise dark attic space. It was amusing to watch the boy bundle up in the blanket with the light right in his face and glasses. “I guess...you know, it’s not like everyone gets a chance to meet a troll! Wren taught us some stuff and Blinky gave us books to read, but there’s still so much I wanna know!”

“I’m no scholar myself, whelp.” Frek said honestly. Eli’s face fell a little, and in response, Frek quickly added, “But hey, I could use the company. Most nights I’m alone; the change of pace is nice.”

Eli took in a deep breath to speak, but Frek stopped him again. “Whoa whoa whoa! I know you’re gonna want to wring information out of me more than someone reading with Elix-Lore.”

“Elix-Lore?” he piped with curiosity. The Slayer sighed and sat up a little. 

“Uh, look -- maybe I’ll just tell you a story, yeah? History lessons are one thing, but storytelling is a whole different arena. A much more fun one, anyway.”

That happy, eager face: how could Frek not smile? Tired as he was, he found himself enjoying the attention. It had been far too long since he last shared a story with anyone.

“Long ago, when Gunmar’s war began to ravage the world of humans and trolls alike…”

\----

_...A proud warrior chief of the jungle clans to the east ruled a prosperous tribe. They mined for gold and made pretty things that were sold as great treasures, uncommon to trollfolk. It made the chief wealthy, but his heart never grew selfish -- in fact, he spent much of his goods on building and expanding his tribe, reaching even the surface world. They lived in peace with their human neighbors, and the chief’s elite warriors protected their land from evil forces of all kinds._

_And then the rise of Gunmar reached his home._

_The story of the Gumm Gumm overlord was not unknown to the chief. For decades he watched as Gunmar’s raids drew closer and closer to his lands, but he foolishly believed that Gunmar would never reach them. His kind heart did not stop his pride from blinding him from the truth of his own vulnerability and mortality._

_Because the chief was so proud, he was unable to prevent Gunmar’s raid of his village. Whelps, from freshly born to just little toddlings, were kidnapped and enslaved to fight for his army. Merchants were slaughtered and their wealth stolen away to fund Gunmar’s campaign. Wise men and wise women had their medicines and magics destroyed, martyred on sight, for refusing to aid him and his generals. The once-proud chief could barely escape away with some survivors -- and though those few managed to get away, they did so as poor beggars, as they had lost their family, friends, and precious goods. They could not even return to their huts above or below the jungle, as Gunmar and his Gumm Gumm soldiers burnt them into ashes._

_The chief cried out in shame and anger for days on end -- nothing could console him. Finally, a young maiden approached him, and gave him a sliver of hope in their ruin._

_“My chief, I am but an apprentice, but my master of the arcane arts once told me of a fae sorceress, living in a land far west, where the wind is bitter cold and the forests are dark in mist, a land called Bulgaria. There in a cave, across a lake where no light shines, you will find the altar of the dark witch, and she will grant you any power you seek.”_

_“Then I will ask her for the power to defeat Gunmar, and rebuild our once great tribe!”_

_“Fare well, my chief, but be warned! For the dark witch will ask of something of you in turn; her magics come with a great price.”_

_But the chief, even in his ruin, was still proud and sure of his ways, and thus did not listen to the maiden’s warning. He made off for the far off lands of Bulgaria, where he made the passage across the lake where the light does not shine, and reached the cave, whose darkness was even greater._

_“I call you forth! Argante. Lady Pale. Baba Yaga. Eldritch Queen.” the chief called out from the entrance of the cave._

_“I have many names.” Came the startling voice from the witch. The chief gathered his courage and spoke in turn._

_“I come to trade. Gunmar's war for the surface lands has ravaged my village. I need the power to protect my people.”_

_The witch scoffed. “You seek magic, but what do you bring in return?”_

_“Here, my offering, carved from my own living stone.”_

_And the chief used his ceremonial knife to cut out his living stone. It was bright and yellow, reflective of his soul and heart. He handed the stone to the witch who held out her hand in the darkness, and watched as she magically turned the stone into a ring at the palm of her armored hand. Wisps of magic surrounded the chief as he felt himself grow in power both physical and magical._

_But before the chief could shout out in victory, the magic turned on him, and sucked out his very soul. The witch entrapped it into the ring she made from his living stone, and thus entrapped him to her will._

_“My soul! You lied to me!” he cried out in fear. “What have you done to me? Inside, I am so empty!”_

_“You fool -- your flesh is worth nothing! You will seek Merlin's champions and bring death to his Trollhunters!” the witch cackled._

_The chief rushed out of the cave and onto his boat. In vain he paddled away, but already he felt the tug and pull of the witch’s will over his own. He cried out into the night, and no one but the dark witch’s power answered him._

\----

Before Frek could continue on to explain how Angor Rot captured his first Trollhunter, Eli jumped up with a snort. Bags were under his eyes, where they were not before, and the flashlight clattered onto the floor.

“Hm? Oh, sorry...I must be tired.” Eli said with a little grin. Frek chuckled. 

“Wren will have my head if she knew I kept you up late.”

“I thought you were my guard, not my mother.” he huffed, though Eli did get to his feet. But his pleasant demeanor grew worried. 

“Wait, you said that this Angor Rot kills Trollhunters, right?”

Frek stood up as well and dusted himself off, for all the good that did him in the attic. “I know what you are thinking, whelp, but you needn’t worry for Wren. Angor Rot was imprisoned, shackled up ages ago. And as far as my people know, the Inferno Copula has long since been hidden away as well.”

“Your people?” Eli asked. 

“Yes. My tribe was formed from the descendents of those who survived Gunmar’s raid. The maiden in the tale was none other than my own mother. It was she who recognized the former chief in his new, corrupted form, and from her gained a story for my people to share as warning against dark magic.”

Eli stood there, wrapped tighter now, in his blanket. The flashlight was turned off, but Frek could clearly see that he was deep in thought. 

“Do you think we could ever find Angor Rot, and maybe make him good again?”

Frek blinked rapidly at the bizarre question. “Pardon?”

“Angor Rot. He got ensalved against his will, right? And had to kill Trollhunters for that witch lady.” Eli clarified, his droopy eyes brightening with hope. “Maybe if we asked your mother about where he’s kept, we could find a way to get his soul back into him, and --”

“ _Absolutely not!_ To meddle with such magics, even with good intent, is to ask for ill will.” Frek warned rather harshly. In his defense, the Slayer -- young as he was -- grew up on more gruesome tales of Baba Yaga and her evil misdeeds, and the thought of a fleshbag child like Eli getting wrapped up in all that...well, it sent a shiver through his stone body. Still, the sudden change in tone made Eli jump a little and look nervous.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean...I didn’t…”

Frek sighed. “I apologize for scaring you, but you must understand. The world of trollkind is an unforgiving one. What a human would call mercy, a troll would call a deathwish.”

Eli rolled on his feet, focusing on the ground in front of him. In a quiet and stubborn voice, he said, “I still think Angor can be saved, if we just knew what to do.”

The boy learned nothing from the tale then. There was no way Eli would ever meet the assassin, so Frek let the subject drop and nagged him to leave him be and get to bed already. At least the boy did so without much fuss.

Yet, Frek the Slayer, a warrior from a tribe of proud trollfolk with prouder traditions, could not help but worry about what other antics the fleshbag would get himself into.


	19. Chasing After Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Wren and her Trollhunters prepare for their coming attack, she overlooks a traitor in their midst and unknowingly allows them contact with Gunmar himself.

A large figure, crystals jutting out of its back, heaved and hawed as it ran back towards the relaxing figure of Wren. She sat on the blanket still, enjoying the sounds of the night and the sight of the moonlit meadow. 

He sighed. So she didn’t notice.

“Back already?” Wren asked, turning when she heard a twig snap. Draal, she noticed, walked a bit awkwardly, as if anxious about the forest floor he was escaping from. She rose a brow, and he tried to shrug it off.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” he laughed off a bit loudly. Wren chuckled at the bizarre behavior.

“I know you hate potty talk, but if you need anything to help with whatever is making your stomach act funny, I know a lady.”

“Not needed.” Draal said, as pleasant as ever. A little too pleasant. Wren shifted a little in her place, unsure if he drank a little too much glug, or if he was simply ecstatic from their successful first date.

Thinking about that made her smile. Draal was never one to sugar coat things, so to see him brighten up from their night out was special to her. Wren sighed, leaning against his arm. 

“Papa won’t like it, but I say we stay out until sunrise. How about you?”

Draal leaned back against the tree. “Whatever you want.”

Wren grinned and enjoyed the night sky while they still had it. 

\----

By the time they snuck back into Trollmarket, the boys had texted her about their play audition canceled for that night, so they would be coming in. She smiled as Draal opened the portal with the horngazel. 

“The humans are coming over later today. That’s good, means we can have them over sooner!”

“Good for planning.” he said, somewhat vaguely. Wren perked.

“You’re right, I still have to find out more about that expo. We’ll need a way in if Jim’s invite falls through.”

Draal said nothing as they entered. They returned to a stressed-out Vendel, as Wren predicted, though he was as befuddled as he was upset by the reason why.

“That is no way to court, especially as the Trollhunter.” Vendel chided, walking with them along the street. “What on earth are people going to think, knowing you wander off at night alone with a troll not yet wed to you?”

A few toddlings, hiding behind some crates, came out to look at Wren’s silken sari, and he shooed them away with his staff. This caused an eruption of giggles as they sprinted in different directions. Wren cooed at one that dared to sneak back.

Vendel snorted. “And you aren’t listening.”

“I am, Papa, I simply disagree.” Wren explained as she stopped walking to hold the toddling on her hip. It was a boy, with jade stone skin and four little buds for horns. “Draal and I agreed to get to know one another, on our _own_ terms.”

Draal snapped back to attention. “Yes, an agreement. We prefer dating.”

“This ‘dating’ leads to marriage, I hope?” Vendel prodded, poking Draal’s chest with his staff. 

“Er, typically?” Draal answered lamely. Wren rolled her eyes, allowing the toddling boy to chew a bit on her Amulet.

“We do wish to marry one day, and dating is how we get there. Without all the pretense of course.” Wren said with a grin. Vendel shook his head, carefully taking the whelp away from his daughter, so as to place him on a sack among a merchant’s table. The boy squealed happily, as the merchant was his own father. Vendel continued.

“The pretense of courting at least kept you safe, Wren. But for Merlin’s sake, you were on the surface at night! _All_ night! Do you know what kind of dangers are out there? You speak of this possibility of...of the things you told me.” Vendel added quietly, hurrying them to speak around a lonesome corner. “Honestly, Changelings afoot, Killahead Bridge being built -- all these conspiracies and you play about like a careless scavenger.”

Wren lost her smile. “Papa…”

“You mean you believe these conspiracies?” Draal interrupted. Vendel gave him a look and the warrior cleared his throat.

“It’s just...if you did not believe her, why would you worry?”

Vendel almost said something, but caught himself before letting out a heavy breath. “I...I suppose I do believe them. At least, in the sense that if it is a possibility, then our Trollhunter should consider the consequences of her own actions.”

“I’m right here if you wish to speak with me.” Wren snapped. “We’re back, we’re safe, that’s what matters.”

“You can’t always assume so.” Vendel said evenly, before his face softened. “Wren, may I speak with you? Alone?”

Wren looked over at Draal, who nodded at her to follow him. “I need to rest myself. I’ll be back for training.”

Once he made his rather hurried leave, Vendel lead Wren through the streets again. 

“I know I’ve been hard on you.” he began. Wren hummed, wrapping a pink arm around his wider one. 

“I haven’t been the best example either.” Wren admitted, then stifled a giggle. “I was a nightmare for you, huh?”

“You say that as if you had stopped being so.” Vendel said with a smirk. Then it fell back down to a slight frown. “I can’t blame you. It’s your nature. You’re impulsive, but your instincts have yet to fail you as a warrior. For so long I’ve tried to protect you, and by attempting to suppress those instincts.”

Wren hugged closer to her father. “You have every reason to worry, though. I worry too. I’ve been training hard and making a strong network, just to do my job, and keep everyone safe.”

“But are you keeping _yourself_ safe?” Vendel softly pointed out. They reached his cave, where they walked in and sat at his table. “You are my only kin, Wren. My pride and joy. I love you dearly, and the thought of losing you in battle was not a sorrow I ever contemplated.”

Rika came in from another room, quietly hurrying herself to the kitchen to pour some glug for everyone. Though Wren was mildly surprised, Vendel did not seem to mind at all. So, Wren returned to focus on her father.

“Papa, do you think I’m going to fall in battle against Bular?” she asked after a moment. By then Rika had placed mugs of drink onto the table, before departing back to the other room to give them privacy. 

“I do, though it could also be this Nomura, or another Changeling, or any other being that wishes you harm.” Vendel confessed. His eyes, already clouded from old age, now drooped with an exhaustion he previously hid from her. “I’m not getting any younger, Wren. I just want to know that you will be safe, and happy; that you won’t have to finish a war that my generation failed to win for you.”

Neither spoke for a while after that, and instead they quietly sipped their glug. Wren did move around the table to sit nextt her father, lean against him, but did not speak. She simply did not know how to respond to such vulnerability; Vendel did not need her to respond, not when he suspected that she would take what he confessed, and keep it close to her heart. 

Wren offered Vendel the rest of her glug when he finished his, and he gave a genuine bark of laughter.

“Even when life is heavy, you always try and keep it light.” Vendel said, happy enough to finish her mug for her. Now it was Wren’s turn to laugh.

“On the topic of keeping it light -- since when did Rika move in with you?”

Vendel choked on his drink, and Rika cackled from the other room.

\----

No, Rika did not move in with Vendel -- not that it stopped Wren’s teasing. Soon it got bad enough to where Vendel forced her out of his home. Rika stepped outside with her to say good bye.

“Rika, can I ask you a question?” Wren asked, just before she turned to go.

“Anything, Wren.”

Wren fiddled with her fingers a bit, before asking, “Are you and Papa courting?”

Rika shared a half-grin, tossing some of her long hair behind her shoulder. “In our own way, somewhat. He has yet to officially ask me. Stubborn old goat.”

“Maybe you should ask him instead.” Wren offered. Rika’s eyes grew playful.

“Now there’s an idea. But off with you, Trollhunter! Don’t let me take up any more of your time.”

Wren rather liked spending time with the woman, but she agreed. She needed her rest, and thus headed back towards her own cave. Just as she plopped into her nest, she glanced up and saw a bashful looking Frek.

Frek.

_Frek._

In _Trollmarket?_

Wren sprung up to her feet, and before she could demand what he was doing, he spoke up in a harsh whisper.

“No time to explain,” he explained. Wren scoffed and marched over to him. She ignored her growing dizziness from lack of sleep.

“You are exiled from Trollmarket and now you are in the home of an Elder’s daughter! You could be killed on sight!”

“So could you, if you don’t listen to me!” Frek said desperately, nervously glancing at the door. Wren settled a little but crossed her arms.

“Then make it quick.”

He took a breath and started. “Nomura returned to visit with Eli’s mother. I was keeping an eye on things as usual, but Nomura stepped outside to make a...conversation, on those things you call a phone, I think?”

“Yes yes. Anything important?”

“I couldn’t get a good place to hear fully.” Frek went on, looking annoyed. “She was out in the sun, near the road in front of the house. I only heard what I did because Eli left the attic window open for me before he left.”

“And?” Wren pushed, looking anxious. Frek shared her nervousness.

“I think there’s a spy in Trollmarket. Maybe it’s a Changeling, I don’t know, but there is someone on the inside.”

Wren felt her worn body grow cold. Immediately Krax came to mind.

“I might have a lead. But I need you to leave, alright? I can handle this. Don’t get yourself killed on my account.”

“And spoil your reputation? Never.” Frek said with a wink and a sly grin. He threw a hood on over his face, then stepped into her window. He paused before jumping out, to add, “You may want to lock this up next time, all things considered.”

Then he was gone. After locking up her window and even placing a protective rune by it, Wren smacked her face with little pats to wake herself up and go after her suspect.

\----

Wren picked up a cup of gravely coffee on the way to Trollmarket’s center. She downed it in under a minute, and already began to buzz with needed energy. Riding on that wave, she beelined for the people she was looking for. 

The first person she intended to meet made her frown with childhood contempt. But, business was business, and Wren was desperate to find out more about Krax.

Relkor stammered a bit when he saw her walking up. He almost dropped his hammer and stumbled around his anvil.

“O-Oh, Trollhunter!” he darted his eyes nervously. “Alone then?”

Wren rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “I need help with an investigation. You see all kinds of characters, I don’t doubt.”

“I don’t do dirty deals, if that’s what you mean.” he half-snarled in amusement as he relaxed. He had grown quite tall, taller than Draal even, and Wren caught the glint of a marriage stone carefully tied into the band around his blackened wrist. At least that explained the woman within the shop, who had a slightly swollen midsection.

“This isn’t about you.” Wren said cooly, ignoring the bizarre feelings of envy, and crossed her arms. “Has anyone named Krax come by here?”

The fire stone crackled behind him as Relkor thought hard. “At some point yes, several years ago. Why?”

“I just need to know if he’s from Trollmarket, if he’s living here now.” Wren explained. Relkor shrugged. 

“My orders are always picked up, never delivered. Though if it helps, he was hanging out with Bagdwella a lot when he was commissioning me. She might know.”

Also a business owner -- as well as a big gossip -- Wren did not doubt it. By then she began to shiver a little from exhaustion; Bagdwella had an answer at least.

“I knew Krax! Strange fellow, though. He talks up a storm and then poof! Back to the shadows.”

Wren frowned at that. “So is he from around here?”

“Oh yes, I had some belt buckles of mine sent to his cave here. Krax travels, so if he’s not home he’s likely elsewhere.”

Just as Bagdwella warned, Krax was not at home. Wren even snuck into his cave -- like some trolls, he had no actual door or even curtain to draw in some privacy. Inside, it was dim, with various boxes and barrels strewn about. With a crinkled nose, Wren lightly rummaged through some of them; perhaps this “home” of his was merely a place to store his things. 

And interesting things, Krax collected. Wren oohed over a miniature chest of raw gold, and in another she found moldy scrolls written in a confusing dialect of Trollish. For fear of tearing the tender writing, Wren did not dare to read it, and instead moved on. She made a mental note to speak of this to Blinky later. No doubt he would personally make a bartering offer for them.

Still, Wren could not find anything truly damning. Bizarre, perhaps, and certainly exotic, but nothing ridden in guilt. She frowned. Did not Nomura mention Krax as using Lora as a shield? Was he important enough to mention for a reason, or was the Changeling merely using him as a scapegoat? 

Wren paused somewhat during the search. Golden eyes stared down at a crate of human rugs, but did not take in their intricate fabric and patterns. They began to prickle a little too, with tears.

Krax was a dead end -- not just for the threat of a Changeling spy, but for a possible understanding of Lora’s murder. So far, Wren had no answer for either.

“I am such a _terrible_ Trollhunter.” she sighed sadly, closing the lid to the crate and wiping her eyes. “And an even worse friend…”

Wren turned to make her leave, and her partially-deaf ears failed to pick up the footsteps of someone in the shadows.

\----

Blinky found Wren in the back of his library, snoozing away with a book covering her face. She sat not-so-lady-like on a stool, slumping back upon a bookshelf; the fact that he found her willingly reading, alone, and without persuasion, was reason enough to let the girl rest. Something was on her mind and it wore her out.

There was a note as well. In a hurried scrawl, the writer -- Wren -- asked Blinky to look through anything he could on known Changelings and their tactics. Glancing back over to her, the historian saw that the book she used as a cover was none other than a genealogy of known troll family lines and clans. He sighed and carefully took the book away from her to use himself.

Just as Blinky got comfortable at his desk at the library’s front, a few piles of material ready to sift through, he was visited by a familiar human face.

“I am such an idiot!” Jim expressed as he rushed into the Trollmarket library. Blinky lifted only one eye to meet the boy’s blue ones. For such a bold exclamation, he was smiling rather wide.

“And what sort of developments brought you to such a conclusion, young James?”

“I made this big deal about that cooking expo, and I realized that I _can_ take Wren!”

Blinky gave him his full attention now. “Oh?”

“Yeah. That girl I wanted to take...well, I kinda forgot that her mom is on the city council, so she’s going with her family there anyway. You know, to rub elbows and stuff. We’re gonna meet up there.” Jim explained. The smile lessened a little, and he looked down.

“I also wanted to, you know, apologize. I shouldn’t have argued against Wren about it and not just because I could have gone with Claire anyway. This Bridge thing is a lot more important than some date.”

Blinky grinned himself, placing down a book to walk over to him. “Oh my boy, if you are going to apologize, it should be to Master Wren herself -- and she’s already quite supportive of this budding interest in this Fair Claire.”

Jim blushed. “Fair Claire?”

“Just a nickname, my boy. Your affections are not a secret you know, and not just because Wren indulged me with what she knew, outside of that interesting phone call.” Blinky said with all the assurance in the world. “After all, your interest in Claire is as plain as that growing blush on your face.”

“Great.” Jim said with a muffled voice, covering his face with his hands. Blinky chuckled and lead him to his desk where the books were.

“Teasing is all well and fun, though I do mean what I said. Master Wren has no hard feelings about letting you and the other human Trollhunters live life as, well, children.”

“Teenagers.” Jim corrected in good humor. 

“Either way, youthful and not quite adults.” Blinky shrugged. One book was shut and placed in another pile, moving onto a new one. “Our Trollhunter never had much of a childhood of her own, so I suppose she wishes to make sure you lot have what she never received.”

“Wren didn’t have a childhood?” Jim prompted, curious now. He took a seat at the massive desk as Blinky half-returned to his research on Changelings. His human companion tried not to look unsettled as half his eyes read the pages and the other half looked at him.

“Master Wren is an orphan -- found by myself when she was just a toddling, actually. She is also a runt, as you know, and made for a very weak and sickly youngling as she grew. An easy enough target for brutish fellows who sought to take advantage of that. For much of her life, Wren had to look out for herself; even with some help from others, our world is not quite forgiving of those in need of mercy.” the historian explained. Jim sagged his shoulders a little.

“An orphan.” he repeated. Blinky noticed the sad tone and looked up with all of his eyes. 

“Vendel took in Wren eventually, of course. With his care she became much more healthy and exemplified. She is not without family any longer.” he added, but Jim still looked unsettled.

“I know, it’s just...I guess I kinda understand. Sort of, anyway.”

Blinky hummed in interest. “You live with your mother, do you not?”

“Yeah, _only_ my mother. My dad...well, he’s a skeeze, if he’s still alive out there.” Jim said with bitterness now. “He left when I was five.”

Jim continued, and Blinky dared not interrupt. Considering he spent part of his day in Jim’s basement and home to keep an eye on things, it did not occur to him that he had some sort of history with his missing father figure.

“It was my birthday. He got me this amazing bike kit, and he said he was gonna build it with me. Then he left the party saying he needed to get something. He never came back, and I only know what I do know about him because my mom had to contact him to finalize the divorce.”

The books and tomes were set down. Goodness gracious, this boy had been on a ride! Blinky leaned forward on the desk to listen more closely until Jim finished. His voice was flat and eyes distant, but still refused to look directly at Blinky.

“I just...I didn’t understand it. I still don’t. I definitely don’t give a single crap about my dad.” Jim quickly told him. “It’s just...why? You know? We used to have great times together, all three of us. And suddenly we...I wasn’t good enough anymore.”

Blinky sighed and walked to Jim’s side. “James, you were always good enough. It’s a shame your father could not see that, but look at you now! A friend to the Trollhunter! As well as one of the first humans to likely survive Bular’s wrath, I dare to add.”

Jim smirked at the praise. “You make it sound like I battled him myself.”

“You and the others do, in your own way: a human way that Master Wren values, and that I am beginning to understand myself.” Blinky admitted with one of his hands placing themselves on Jim’s shoulder. 

“What I am saying is, others may not see the greatness in you, but that does not determine whether there is greatness in you at all. It is your choices, your actions from those choices that you are able to do, that measure the goodness in your heart. And that, my boy, is where greatness is born.” 

“...Do you always give good pep talks?” Jim asked, his chest glowing from the kind words but hesitant to show it. Blinky laughed and patted his back. 

“Lets just say, you are not wrong when you claim to understand Wren’s own past. I have had to give her a ‘pep talk’ or two from myself in her lesser moments. Now, how about you help me with some reading? Eight eyes are better than six, after all!”

Jim groaned at the sight of the “to read” pile, but did as he was asked anyway -- if only to make up for his foolish behavior from before. Blinky smiled, and carefully noted the motor magazine carefully rolled up in his school bag, a photo of a moped on the cover. 

For now, however, the boy would have his first lesson in Trollspeak, and await the arrival of the others to continue their training.

\----

“You said I was safe.” 

Krax threw a crate to the side, where he kept some of his valuables. A troll that he did not know the name of -- typical in his business -- rose his brows.

He was four armed, like Blinky, but otherwise had the body type of the typical common breed of troll. His stone skin was like warm earth, and had a snout-like nose, almost like a mix of a dog and a pig. His hooved feet shuffled a little on the floor as he positioned himself against the wall; his dark hair was thick, running down his back like a mane.

“You are safe. The Trollhunter suspected you, but that does not mean she was going to attack you.” he assured in a thick accent.

“If not her, then her guard dog of a boyfriend would have!”

The other troll smirked. “I have that covered too. You just focus on collecting the Eye Stone.”

Now it was Krax’s turn to smile. “I already have, thanks to your advanced payment.”

It was the strange troll’s turn to look unnerved, though excited. “You have it already?!”

“See what happens when you treat your workers right?” Krax said with a laugh. He wandered over to a small, crated box; it was taken down from its place among other ones, some of which hissed at him. The mystery troll took the box carefully, gleefully, and spoke in a hushed tone.

“Our Dark Prinz will be happy to receive this.” he said with a vicious grin. “Good work, Krax.”

They seperated, and the troll reached the outside of Trollmarket. As soon as he was far enough from the canal, he transformed back into a human disguise -- a pizza man -- and took a truck ready for use at a parking lot nearby. It sped down the street towards the museum, awaiting the hands of Strickler. The man looked over the disguised Changeling with a risen brow.

“Don’t be gone for long, we don’t want them thinking Draal is shirking his duties to Trollmarket.”

Immediately the human transformed into the large, sharp-backed form of Draal the Destroyer. 

“How does this boy not have his shoulder creaking from all this weight?” Otto complained in his own voice. Strickler suppressed a smirk from the imagery.

“Any news on your front then, other than the Eye Stone?”

“Just that they are going to the expo, as Nomura said they would.” he continued in a strained voice. After clearing his throat and taking on Draal’s full tone, Otto then added, “Do you have a way into the Trollhunter’s surface hideout? People love to chat me up in that town, she visits with the boy they call Jim Lake Jr.”

Strickler nodded. “Yes, I do, actually. In fact, I know the perfect trap to lure her out.”

Otto sighed. “Good! Bular has been getting anxious. He should be pleased to hear things going our way.”

“Of course, of course.” Strickler waved off, turning from the back alley to go into the museum and find the others. “Now off you go, lover boy.”

“Don’t mock me, when you get to see our Underlord without me!” Otto spat, before walking away back to his post. “Your little plan better work.”

Strickler glowed a little at the thought, though he also shivered in terror. To meet the greatest troll warrior to ever live was both a blessing and a curse, though more a curse for any Changeling that crossed him the wrong way. Otto would complain about ‘missing out’, but Strickler had the burden of actually having to please his leader under threat of death.

Inside the museum, the moment Bular received the package, he tore the box apart, threw the wood onto the ground, and held out the Eye Stone. 

“My father...I can finally…”

Nothing more was said. Nomura and Strickler -- now in their troll forms -- watched as Bular broke into a furious smile. He held out the triangular piece. It hummed and glowed with magic, rising in the air to zip right into the head of the Killahead Bridge. Immediately it shared the blue glow, the air swirling as a thin veil of crackling energy formed over the front. 

A pulse of light burst through the room momentarily, and before them stood a shadowy figure, with long horns protruding from the sides of his head, and curving inwards toward the end. A single blue eye shone on his face, everything else obscured as if a deep shadow.

By then, the goblin horde had assembled around Bular and the two Changelings, and they began to chant in their bizarre tongue at the sight of their Dark Underlord. Bular himself fell to his knee and bowed before his father.

“My son...we meet at last, after all these centuries.”


	20. Wren's Re-Becoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren faces off with Strickler, and learns how much of the upper hand Bular and his ilk truly have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am working on chapter 21 as I post this, and I will likely have a chapter 22 or even 23, depending on how long it takes to wrap things up. I don't expect more than that. Just in time for 3Below too! Idk if the show will affect my fanfic in the future, I guess it'll be a kind of "If I like it, it'll get referenced, if I don't, it doesn't exist in my fanon" kinda thing.
> 
> Anyway, many thanks to those who gave me kudos and read the story thus far. This is a huge milestone for me and it means a lot that I can share it with someone. <3

“My son...we meet at last, after all these centuries.”

The voice was deep, slow, and almost raspy. Inwardly, Bular seethed in rage against those who sealed him away in the dying Darklands. The time spent in there must have been hard on even the most powerful of warlords. 

“The Bridge is complete, Father, and soon we will obtain the Amulet to free you from your prison.” Bular began, before being interrupted by Strickler. He had stepped forward with a clenched fist.

“My Lord Gunmar, I will be obtaining the Amulet soon. The Trollhunter has foolishly allied herself with mere humans, opening her up for an attack.” 

Bular snarled a little and stood up. “The Impures have almost risked exposing our plans to the runt. I say we prepare for battle now.”

“We already have a plant within Trollmarket itself, to pull out in the open now would risk our plans!”

“ _Enough._ ”

It was not a shout, but a flow of magic filtered through the portal and towards the bickering duo in one, powerful motion with Gunmar’s demand. Both were immediately silenced.

“My exile in this wasteland is made all the more intolerable with your bickering.” Gunmar snarled. “But Stricklander...is correct. We can not risk losing all the work we have done to ensure my freedom from the Darklands -- and thus my victory over the Surfacelands.”

Bular’s stomach churned at Gunmar’s approval over Strickler. That did not stop him from facing his father respectfully, when it was his turn to speak again. 

“We have done much to keep your glorious return assured.” he began. He gestured towards Nomura. “In fact, we have swiped the Guardian of the Trollhunter himself.”

With that, a sour-looking Nomura stepped from her shadowy side of the room, revealing to be tugging along a large figure behind her as goblins jeered. As the prisoner stumbled and fell to his knees, Gunmar laughed.

“Draal the Deadly.” he said with glee. Bruised and worn, he responded by spitting at the image in front of him. This only made Gunmar chuckle more.

“He will make fine bait, when the time comes.” Gunmar rumbled, watching with his one eye as Draal faltered a little and leaned on his hands. “How soon will this bridge be opened?”

“Not long, Dark Underlord.” Strickler replied. “We only wait for the Amulet, which I will take soon.”

“Soon.” Gunmar repeated, almost softly. Draal growled weakly and tried to stand up, but was kicked back down, falling onto his face. Blood dribbled out of his nose, his last thoughts a prayer for the Trollhunting team, and failing to notice the confused contempt in Nomura’s eyes.

\----

When Claire found herself holding hands with Jim without a second thought: she knew it was getting serious. 

Okay, so she _was_ super traditional about this stuff, if not a sappy romantic. But Claire had standards -- she didn’t just hold hands with anybody, let alone think about kissing and dating them. Yet she found herself semi-dating the guy and holding his hand without much thought, whenever they walked together at school.

According to Mary, this was a “code red”.

“Just make it official already!” she and Darci urged her. In fact, they pointed to their “date” for the cooking exposition not far away, and Claire had to agree. The two teens stood on the precipice of a dating relationship. Thinking about it made her elated and joyous.

But Claire was also _confused._ Jim met up with her for rehearsals and study binges after school...and that was it. As soon as either was over, he rushed his good byes and practically ran out the door. Despite her best efforts, no explanation as to why and where was ever given; the most she could gather was that it was important, and that it was secret. 

Well, not anymore. Claire did the unthinkable and broke school rules by sneaking into the boy’s locker room.

Oy vey.

“But with Sadia? Are you kidding?” Toby pushed once she was close enough to hear. Jim sighed and the sound of the locker door opening creaked in the tiled-room.

“No. And I think it’ll be alright. It’s been a while since Sadia met with other humans in a more...chill way, you know?”

“This isn’t chill and you know it!” Toby snapped, much to Claire’s surprise. “When are you gonna drop the act that Strickler is a good guy?”

“I just can’t, okay?!” Jim snapped back. The locker was slammed shut. “I...I’m sorry. It’s just...he’s always been there to help out. He was great at the dinner last time he came over. I can’t believe that he would be that kind of person, you know? He’s not a liar, or a fake. He’s...he’s just Mr. Strickler.”

Claire scrunched her nose at the names given to their history teacher, before their moment of silence ended.

“Okay, maybe I was being harsh. A little bit.” Jim laughed at Toby’s attempt to apologize. “I mean it! I still think he’s a bad guy, but I know he’s important to you. Let’s just see what Wr--I mean, Sadia has to say, okay?”

“Yeah, we should.”

Claire rightly figured that they were making their exit, so she swiftly hid behind the dirty laundry bucket as they made their leave. As soon as she could, she walked out herself and texted her girlfriends.

Their pizza night was cancelled, but Claire had bigger things on her mind anyway.

\----

“Strickler is going to your house for a dinner date? And the night before the expo, no less?!”

Jim held up his hands as Wren freaked a little. “Relax! My mom invited you over too, when he asked about you. You and I will both be there.”

“Not without back up.” Wren asserted, and turned to Draal. He was carefully sifting through a book and almost dropped it when he was addressed. “You’ll come with us, and stay in the basement as back up. If Strickler is a Changeling as I suspect, then we’ll need you.”

“Uh...I’m afraid not. Doing rounds in the neighborhood tonight.”

Wren frowned. “What?”

“I’m doing rounds tonight. Ask Frek if you need help.” he pushed aside, returning to his book. Blinky and Argh exchanged looks with one another before the historian stepped in.

“He is Eli’s charge, and with Nomura still seeing his mother, we can not afford him to leave his station.” Blinky then turned to the Trollhunter. “Master Wren, leave it to me. I may not be the most cunning warrior, but I do have a trick or two up my sleeve!”

“But--” Wren tried to argue, but Blinky shook his head.

“Think nothing of it! I am charged with Mr. Lake’s protection anyway. I should be the one guarding his home.”

“It makes sense.” Jim said in his defense, giving a sheepish smile. Wren rolled her eyes. No doubt the boy still held onto the hope that Strickler was nothing more than a normal human being, and thus was no threat to them. Blinky was hardly the definition of harmless, but she had yet to see him actually fight -- there was a risk in allowing him to act as her back up.

“We’re a team, Master Wren.” Blinky put in, noticing her hesitancy. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You said it yourself: we are Trollhunters, not just one Trollhunter. And as your fellow ‘Trollhunter’, I say I should be the one helping you tonight.”

Wren bit her lip before looking between her trainer and Jim. She eventually caved in. “Alright, fine.”

Then she turned sharply towards Draal, who had been seemingly ignoring the situation and focused on the book.

“Draal? Outside, if you please?”

While the two left the library to allow the others to update the rest of the team, Wren faced Draal with a miffed look on her face.

“What under earth was that about?” she demanded. Draal shrugged. 

“I don’t leave my guard posts.”

“I am your guard post you glork.” Wren snapped impatiently. “Honestly, it’s not just today. You’ve been acting so stand offish since our date. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“And?”

The tone was so nonchalant, so bored, that Wren felt her hands grip hard into themselves. Her weak skin almost cracked from the pressure.

“ _And,_ that _bothers me._ Were you lying when you said you enjoyed it? Am I a nuisance you or something?”

She sounded desperate now, and Wren caught herself before she rose her stained voice even higher. “Just...please, you promised. We can talk about anything now, no holding back. I don’t want us to lose one another again.”

Draal stiffened a little when she reached out and held his hands. He relaxed just as immediately and Wren continued.

“Please tell me, my warrior. No yelling, no angry words. I swear.”

There was a small, quiet moment; Draal looked to be choosing his words carefully before he continued. 

“I suppose I am more focused on work lately.” was all he could say. To his credit, Draal at least sounded remorseful. Wren nodded lamely before stepping back.

“I can’t blame you. We all have. Just...keep to your post, then. I’ll speak with Blinky and Jim on our plans for tonight. If everything goes right, we can get some needed information before we even hit the museum tomorrow.”

Draal smirked. “Good luck then, princess.”

Wren almost did a double take at the nickname. Only the boys ever called her that, and Draal had noted before his distaste for it. Still, she gave a short good bye. A strange, yellow glint passed in Draal’s eyes as he walked away.

\----

“You promise to not go over your head with this ridiculous plan of yours?”

“Of course, Papa, I’m not going alone, after all.”

“Lora was not alone, either.”

Wren paused from her gem cleaving; the grindstone still rolled though the gem itself was placed away from it. She returned to the blue topaz and it’s refinement. “She was also not the Trollhunter, with a team to aid her.”

That was a fair point -- not that Vendel would admit to it. He walked up to stand behind his daughter and eyed her gem critically. 

“You have not touched that grindstone since the eve of Kanjigar’s death. Why are you using it now?” he asked in a careful tone. Wren, now satisfied with it, stood up to place it on the worktable. 

“I made Kanjigar a stone of wisdom, more powerful than I anticipated.” she began. 

“Thanks in part to that diamond you created.” Vendel added with some interest. Wren smiled and pushed up her goggles, looking at her father before turning back to her topaz. With a quick tap with her hammer and chisel, it cut clean in half.

“Exactly. But the energy was still too chaotic. Despite my efforts to polish the turquoise halves, it’s initial break was due to an irregular fracture.”

Wren faltered a little in her tone before continuing. “I...I wonder, if he would have survived that night, had I not used that gem.”

“Kanjigar came to you for aid, and aid you gave. He knew what he was meddling with, you know.” Vendel assured her. “Though I doubt that eases your guilt.”

“I’ve been feeling guilt over many things.” Wren said quietly, carefully sifting through her little pile of sliced diamond shards. “Kanjigar, Lora, the wedding...I just want to make things right. And as Trollhunter, I can’t afford another screw up.”

The diamond was placed against the topaz; it hummed with another flash of light and a pop as the other half was also joined. Wren shared a weak grin.

“This stone will free me from those anxieties, and give me the clarity needed to end this once and for all. And in that clarity, I will strengthen the bonds I have made thus far. If things go right, I can finally put an end to Bular himself.”

“You think so?”

It was a soft question, filled with worry and dread. Wren turned to face her father, walking to his side. He brought her in for a hug before she even made the move herself. A sigh escaped her and she melded into his furry front, as if she were a little toddling seeking his comfort.

“I _have_ to believe so, Papa. For everyone’s sake, not just mine.”

She stepped back, though still stood in Vendel’s embrace, as the two made their good byes before Wren left. Her father watched her leave before moving from his spot.

\----

The test run for the Zen Stone was not long; it did not have to be. Wren wore her armor while walking the pathway from Trollmarket to Jim’s home, underneath her a new burqa that Bagdwella made herself. It was made with a light but sturdy cotton material, with a thin leather lining -- perfect for protection from sunlight and rough troll skin alike. 

Her walk was...abnormally serene. The fear was still there, yet Wren accepted it more fully than she ever had before. It gave her a clarity of the plan ahead for dealing with Strickler, and even more for her friendship with her little team. 

Thinking of them made Wren smile. It was a smile of hope and love. Frek was a whole new troll, eager and ready to fight for justice in the way Wren had fought for him; the boys each had their own unique heart and fire for life, and gave their all without asking much, if anything at all, in return; Blinky and Argh, as always, offered their services as not just tutors and trainers, but as dear old friends. 

Then, there was Draal. 

Within the Zen Stone’s influence, Wren could have sworn she felt a throb of uncertainty. Perhaps things were not as well between them as she once thought? The chance of their relationship not working out made Wren’s chest tighten with anxiety, only for the gemstone to calm it down once more. 

_No, things will work out. Eventually. Tonight, all that will come to pass will answer my fears. I need only wait._

Such was the influence of the stone. Only a block away from the Lake residence now, Wren took off the Amulet and slipped it onto a leather necklace-like strap; in time, she would will the Armor on again without even having to touch it.

“Miss Ali! I’m glad you could make it.” Barbara greeted at the door. Wren grinned; they met casually a few times, mostly as run ins, but those encounters were enough for the woman to trust “Sadia” and like her. It was good to have that effect on humans as well as trolls.

“It’s always a pleasure, Doctor Lake.” Wren said smoothly, walking in gracefully. Barbara chuckled and shut the door behind her. They were lead to the living room.

“I told you, call me Barbara.”

“Only if you call me Sadia.” Wren teased back, and the two shared another chuckle. Wren stopped when she saw Strickler seated on a couch, in front of the window, sipping on some tea. Jim sat awkwardly on the couch adjacent to him, grinning sheepishly now that the Trollhunter arrived. 

“Ah, Miss Ali. I’ve been eager to make your acquaintance.” he spoke gently, standing up to greet her. She stuck out her hand for a handshake, causing a brow of his to rise.

“Oh? You have no qualms in shaking hands with a man?”

Wren paused. Was there a faux pas among humans she had been unaware about? Her hand hung in the air awkwardly as she thought fast to come up with a neutral enough answer.

“Er, well, not to me.” she said as much of a light tone as she could muster. Strickler gave a short chuckle before taking his hand in hers -- it was a harder grip than she expected -- and sat back down with her.

“I suppose not all Muslim women follow that custom. Forgive me for prying.”

“Not at all.” Wren said. Jim cleared his throat. 

“Ah, Mom, how about we sit at the table and serve dinner?”

As they bustled their way to the dining room, Blinky listened intently from the basement, his ear flicking upwards to press it against a large metal pipe leading to the vents around the home. Wren was a bit shaky, but otherwise held her ground. So far, so good. His other ear tickled as well, a creaking sound coming from the basement window. He turned to face it, but saw nothing.

“Hm.” he muttered softly, eyeing the shadows carefully. Though, his eyesight was not too great -- even Wren had better vision than he. 

Just as he carefully looked the other way, he felt a sharp pain from behind his head, and crumpled to the ground with a loud thud. Four pairs of hands, once brown, transformed into a deep blue, and drug Blinky to the dank corner to be tied up. Blinky’s doppelganger stepped out and returned to the spot to listen in on the dinner party above.

Then another visitor dropped by. This time, a rather clumsy and loud human, from the smell of it. The fake Blinky hid in the shadows again with a hiss. 

The human -- a young girl -- plopped down onto the basement floor with a thud and an ‘oof!’. She stood up and brushed herself off. 

“Fortune favors the bold, Claire!” she declared to herself. “Now what is Jimmy Jam up to?”

Not-Blinky silently growled to himself as Claire took his spot from the pipe. From there, she garnered teeny inklings of conversation upstairs.

“And so, the new intern fell flat on his face! It was a riot.” Strickler guffawed. Jim laughed with his mother, and Wren only weakly so. The “superintendent” and “superintendent’s son” sounded vaguely familiar. 

“Oh, forgive me again, Miss Ali.” Strickler spoke up as he patted his mouth with a napkin. “You’re the star guest and I’ve been hogging the spotlight.”

“You’re polite to notice.” Wren easily teased in return, almost as if she wore the Zen Stone now. “Of course, I rather enjoy hearing everyone converse. It’s why I came to Arcadia -- to see what life is like here.”

“People watching is always a fun pastime, isn’t it.” Strickler noted rather pointedly, if subtly so. Jim watched the two carefully as he failed to pick at a pea on his plate. Barbara had since excused herself to the kitchen to start some coffee. 

“Only for those with a reason to do so. Though I wonder, what would your reason be? I doubt you have time to watch random passerby, knowing your busy schedule as a teacher.”

Jim swallowed and sat back a little, still trying to pick at the pea.

“After all,” Wren continued, sounding more pointed herself, “You seem awfully curious about watching me.”

There was a silence. Strickler brandished a knife from the plate to cut into his pork loin. A piece pricked into his fork.

“I know, you know.”

“Know what?” Jim asked sheepishly, the pea now abandoned. He carefully laid a hand over his own knife despite desperately hoping that Strickler was not onto something.

“I know that you know that I know.” Wren countered before anyone could answer Jim. She carefully pushed the plate away from her, the food untouched.

“How much do you know? You didn't know I knew, but now you know, I know.”

“So I guess we all know.” Jim said lamely.

“I’ll get to the point, Cleaver.” Strickler said calmly, trying his best to ignore the shocked look on Jim’s face. He ate his piece of pork and continued. “I know what you're capable of. I know what you're not capable of. I know you are desperate to cling to your sense of independence, as well as being dedicated to protecting those you love. And, I might add, I know that you have a thing against Nomura because of your little friend’s death.”

Wren’s ears flicked and her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Poor Wren.” Strickler chuckled. “Fate plucked you from your cushioned pedestal of prestige, and as we speak, your enemies will pull apart the fabric of everything you hold dear.”

Losing her temper, Wren stood up abruptly so fast, that the chair fell back onto the floor. “What games are you playing at, spy?”

From below, Claire gasped. “A spy?”

Not-Blinky shifted in his shadow, ready to attack when needed. 

Just then, Barbara entered, none-the-wiser. “Coffee is in the kitchen if you want any! I hope you all saved room for--”

“Hey Mom! Let me help you with that--”

Jim then hurriedly pushed his mother back through the door. The moment it swung shut, Strickler jumped up as well and twirled his dinner knife as a weapon. 

“You might as well _unveil_ yourself, Cleaver.” Strickler joked darkly. “But hand over the Amulet, and your little human friends won’t get hurt.”

“Over my dead body.” Wren growled. 

“But of course!” he sneered, stomping his foot twice onto the ground. Unsure of what he meant by that, Wren nonetheless disrobed and called for her Amulet at once, at the same time as Strickler flashed into his troll form. After a split-second shine of blue and green light, the two pulled out their actual weapons and began to fight.

Not-Blinky heard his que, just as Claire gave a small shriek of fright upon hearing the clash of metal. It was enough to rouse Real-Blinky from his slumber, and he gathered enough of his wits to reach his foot out and knock his faker behind the knee. 

A quick flash of events occurred, much to Blinky’s amusement. Not-Blinky howled in pain and dropped to the ground, exposing himself to Claire. The girl shrieked again, backing up quickly into the pipe hard enough to knock her out. This allowed Blinky enough distraction to not only expertly untie his top hands free, but to also grab the object closest to him -- a wooden bat -- and crack it over the Changeling’s head; the bat split in two. Just at his feet, the Changeling slowly transformed back into his true troll-form.

Only _slightly_ panicking now, a discombobulated Blinky found himself using the rope that previously tied him up, to tie up the Changeling, and then hurried himself to be rid of the human girl. And all the while, his Trollhunter was busy upstairs with another Changeling.

It was a battle of nimbility. Wren’s dancing form and Strickler’s assassin ways were near equals, though she obviously struggled due to inexperience. Still, pure passion fueled the young woman now as she hacked and twirled around her opponent. They soon found themselves in a deadlock, his knives surprisingly hard to push away with just the Sword of Daylight. 

“This war is millennia older than you, runt!” Strickler told her with gritted, sharp teeth. “You can't stand against the tide of history -- Gunmar is inevitable! If you care about the boy and his mother, don't fight it!”

The deadlock broke only momentarily, as Wren shouted and gave a short parry before they locked again.

“Don't you see? I'm only trying to protect them! _We want the same thing!_ ”

“If you want to protect them, then forget Gunmar, and join Trollmarket!” Wren spat in anger at his demands. “What makes you think Gunmar the Black would ever tolerate your human pets?”

Strickler’s eyes flashed and broke the parry by twirling backwards from her. His eyes flashed a deadly yellow, raw with rage.

“They are not my pets!” he defied her. “Neither are they yours!”

“Looks like we finally agree on something then. Ha!” Wren attacked again. The Zen pulsed strongly. Her love of Draal, her hope for Frek, her wound for Lora -- they all pounded in her chest now, and gave her an edge she never had before. It looked to wear out Strickler, if just a little. “Too bad we can’t agree on how to protect them.”

“What makes you think you can protect _them_ \--” Strickler demanded to know with a sneer, throwing knives at her from his collar “-- If you can’t even protect your own Guardian?”

Wren stopped in shock, only just long enough for Strickler to take advantage of that and tackle her into the main foyer of the home. After a short tussle, he had the maiden in a headlock in a strength that did not match how skinny his green form was. 

“What...are you...talking...about…” Wren pushed out in a snarl. Strickler laughed. 

“Our little ‘intern’ did not come to us willingly, you know.” he spoke into her ear. “Give me the Amulet, girl, and he may live yet.”

Suddenly, everything made sense, her Zen Stone almost ticking within her chestplate. The way “Draal” acted so funny, how disinterested he was in her mission tonight…

It had been the spy. The spy Frek warned about. The one she was too distracted by her hate for Nomura and Krax to see right in front of her.

“You are, by far, the _stupidest_ Trollhunter I had the dishonor of meeting.” Strickler said as he tightened his grip. “Do as I say, and perhaps you’ll be smarter than I give you credit for.”

As Wren’s mind raced with possible ways to outsmart the Changeling challenging her, they heard footsteps racing out of the kitchen. Strickler let Wren slip away from him as she called off the Amulet. In her rush to find her burqa, the Amulet itself rolled right at Strickler’s feet. It was snatched in a millisecond, and replaced with a fake just under the couch. 

Jim had delayed his mother long enough to allow Wren to cover herself, as well as find her “Amulet”. The two stood awkwardly at the front door, just as Barbara found them there and holding a hot pie.

“Oh, leaving already?” she asked, confused. “Jim, I told you I should have made the thing by myself. They need the company, you know!”

“It’s fine, really.” Strickler insisted. “I received a call from a friend, you see, he’s in a spot of trouble.”

“I, uh...I was telling him goodbye.” Wren said, slightly breathless. Barbara looked down at the sudden end to her otherwise good dinner party, but accepted it graciously.

“Just as I got the pie ready too!” she said with an eventual smile. “I’ll be sure to have Jim give you a slice sometime.”

“Of course. It was a pleasure, Barbara.” Strickler told her, taking a free hand and kissing it gently before heading out. Wren and Jim both glared daggers at the door.

“How about I slice some up for us, then?” Barbara offered. Wren followed her to the dining room, wondering where underearth Blinky had been up to. 

In fact, her trainer had found his assailant sneaking away from the Lake home just as he returned from safely returning Claire to a well-lit part of town. He tried to chase after him, but it was not unknown that Blinky was not the fastest runner out there. Wren learned of this shortly after she left. 

“I contacted Frek, of course. He and the boy shall be on the look out. Argh and Tobias are checking the rest of the town for other signs of activity.”

“It’s worse though!” Wren said, ripping off her face veil to reveal tears in her eyes. She had suppressed them for far too long, trying to hold face not just for Barbara, but also for a very hurt Jim. The older troll caught his breath, not expecting to see the normally dedicated girl suddenly become so hurt.

“Come now, Master Wren! What has you so frazzled?”

“Blinky, _they have Draal._ ”

The crack in her voice set off the tears, and she found herself crying and falling forward into Blinky’s arms, feeling like a little whelp after losing another fight.

“They had him, for so long, and I didn’t even know.” Wren sobbed. “He’s hurt, I know he’s hurt! We have to st-st-stop them-them…”

“Hush my dear, it’s alright.” Blinky tried to assure her. They took to the shadows in the woods, holding her close. “Frek is on the spy’s trail. We make an offensive tomorrow night. We have a way. _You_ have a way.”

“It’s all my fault…” Wren continued to cry. Blinky helped her sit down next to him on a fallen log. “Lora died because I scared her away. I killed Kanjigar because of my stupid experiment just to spite Papa, and now Draal is gonna die too, if not the boys!”

Wren shuddered. “At least Unkar only got himself killed...but I’m dragging down everyone else with me.”

“Enough of that talk, Master Wren!” Blinky said in sudden sternness. He helped Wren sit up straighter, as tears pooled down her face still. “Is this the face of our Trollhunter? _Hm?_ Is this the little rapscallion I watch grow up to defy all odds?” 

Wren blinked. “Huh?”

Blinky took in a breath, putting both his upper hands onto her shoulders, the bottom two holding onto her hands. He looked her straight in the eye.

“You faced down starvation and neglect as just a little toddling, Master Wren, and you shall face down Bular himself as the Trollhunter. Lora was killed, as was Kanjigar, but they are your inspiration: not your Achilles Heel! And now, Draal needs you more than ever if you wish to see him again! And you think wallowing in your self-pity will aid you in this endeavor?”

“Uh…” Wren said. She no longer cried, more out of shock, though she had enough sense to clean herself up. “No. No. Draal would want me to fight.”

Blinky’s frown transformed into a smile. “Then fight you must, Master Wren. And fight, we shall. But we can’t do that until we form our team together, and make a plan.”

Wren looked down, shaking a little. Though she calmed down, it was still a lot to take in. Blinky turned her face to look at him again.

“Stay with me, all will be well. I can sense it.” Blinky assured her, though he wasn’t so sure if he believed it himself. He helped her stand up and guided Wren with an arm wrapped around hers. They walked a bit towards the sewer, where they would meet with the others, when Wren spoke up.

“I remember that day, when you found me.”

They did not stop walking, and Blinky motioned for her to continue with a nod. Wren did not quite look at him, and instead focused on the forest path they walked on.

“I don’t remember _you_ exactly, but I remember how hungry and thirsty I was. How alone I was. I was so scared, but too little to understand what I was afraid of exactly. I didn’t even understand that I was scared because I was going to _die._ ”

“A great blessing of the Fates, then, that I found you that day.” Blinky told her with warm gentleness. “And it is a memory I often cherish, as I grow more proud of what you’ve become.”

Wren scoffed, but smiled. “You're kidding me. I’ve been messing up this Trollhunting thing since day one.”

“You are on...day 50 or so? And you have yet to truly fail.” Blinky chuckled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself Wren, not when it is negative self talk that does nothing to help you. I stand by what I said -- I’m proud of what you’ve become.”

“A warrior, you mean?” Wren asked, sincere now. Blinky smiled. 

“No. You have become yourself, with a heart that has a reason to fight. And that is all a troll truly ever needs, don’t they?”


	21. Something Rotten This Way Ends...For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren finally faces off with Bular once and for all, though she finds it may not be the ending she thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: for some reason some of my italics are not showing...the html so freaking wonky and I do not feel comfortable fixing it, but I apologize in advance to anything that sounds flat or doesn't make sense, lol.

Otto chuckled darkly, in his troll form now so as to not let the warrior see him in his usual human disguise. Bular and the other Changelings were busy, and even the goblins had their own plans to prepare. That left him alone for ‘guard duty’.

He always loved guard duty.

“Guten morgen, mein freund!” Otto began cheerfully, his cloven feet clicking smartly on the marble floor. Draal, starving and barely hydrated, kept his back to his captor, refusing to acknowledge him.

“Ah, come now, my boy! Today is the big day! Especially for your lady love, ja?”

That earned the Changeling a threatening snort. At least he faced him a little. Mentioning Wren always got a reaction of some kind from the brute -- something Otto abused mightily.

“Oh you know, death and mayhem and all that jazz, as humans say.” Otto said condescendingly. “With the Bridge complete, all we need now is your pretty little runt, and get her to open Gunmar’s prison.”

A slight gleam of blue crystal flashed from the overhead lights, as Draal turned to face his tormentor. The metal of his magical chains scraped on the floor.

“Don’t act all surprised now, boy, you knew that the Trollhunter would have to face Bular _eventually._ And do you really expect that runt to stand a chance? She will be crushed for sure!”

Then he stopped his pacing, giving a face gasp of surprise before Draal could growl in response.

“You know, I _could_ be wrong.”

Draal stood still, but his eyes narrowed in curiosity as Otto continued.

“After all, Wren _is_ the maiden daughter of an esteemed Elder, and a Trollhunter no less. And with Bular unpaired himself, well... “ Otto gestured vaguely, as if disinterested in the topic, “He may need a trophy of _some_ kind, if he wants a legitimate claim to the surfacelands…”

Otto grew a wicked grin on his face.

“...And begin his own mighty progeny through _someone’s_ womb.”

Draal jumped up and roared, falling face first as the chains holding his wrists pulled him back, instead of snapping off the troll’s many fingers. Otto cackled, wiping away a stray tear as Draal glared up at him with a nasty looking snarl.

“Oh ho! You thought I was serious! You really think that little runt is worthy enough for the line of Gunmar!” One of his four hands smacked at his knees in bitter glee. “No wonder you and your friends are doomed! You’re all so _gullible!_ ”

Draal carefully pulled himself back up to his knees and glared at him. Again, Otto could only draw in a deep sigh as his laughing died down.

“Keep barking, _dog:_ it won’t loosen your leash, nor change your fate.”

As he walked back towards the exit, he added, “Besides, your fate has already been decided, for the Age of Gunmar is at hand.”

Once again, Draal could only pray.

\----

“You’re not going alone. I forbid it!” Vendel declared. The staff banged onto the Heartstone floor.

Wren sighed and pushed her phone back into her skirt pocket. “Do I have a choice? They have Draal. They almost killed Blinky and another innocent human, and Jim got caught up in the mess too. What would have happened to them if Strickler had offed me?”

Jim focused intently on the floor in front of him, Toby and Eli standing close by him as they watched the argument unfold.

“I have a responsibility to save Draal, and not just because he is my betrothed.” Wren continued. “I can’t just keep the Amulet out of Bular’s reach -- I need to end this war once and for all. I need to finish Deya the Deliverer’s work, and banish the last Gumm Gumm to the Darklands.”

“I have to disagree, Master Wren.” Blinky said solemnly, knowing she would not like his reasoning. “Even if the reward is great, the risk of Gunmar’s return is greater still! To simply march towards devastation--”

“Then continue to disagree. I’m going to save Draal and end this tonight.” Wren then turned to the boys. “How soon should I be ready for the exposition?”

“In an hour or so.” Jim answered quietly. Then he looked up at her, his blue bell eyes drenched with regret and shame. “Wren, I’m...I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I should have believed you when you said that he was a Changeling. I was so desperate to deny it that I...I didn’t want...”

Wren gave him a sympathetic look, even coming close to him for a small hug as he struggled to continue. Jim stiffened before accepting it with guilt. “I don’t blame you for anything. And you had no hand in this, in any of this. All of us have been hurt and betrayed by Bular’s ilk, and for the last time.”

Wren then turned to the others: to Blinky, Argh, and her own father.

“I’m done letting my loved ones get hurt due to my own inactions. Tonight, we battle.”

Vendel shared a look with Blinky before he walked to his daughter, embracing her with his free arm.

“May it be a battle you win, Wren. We don’t want to lose you too.”

\----

Eli was insistent on ‘Sadia’ decking out her burqa with golden jewelry for the event. Even Frek was in on it, his own tribe experts with the metal.

“C’mon, _princess,_ how bad could it be?” Frek chuckled as he sifted through the antique bracelets and other trinkets that Louise Pepperjack inherited from family. “Draal may be in danger, but you shall save your dashing prince and woo him at the same time.”

Eli gasped when he pulled out a rather garish, chunky knotted necklace from the pile.

“If you’re gonna whoop Bular’s butt, do it with _this._ ” The boy demanded.

Jim too was jittery when Wren dropped by later, his hair slicked back and wearing dark-looking running shoes with his otherwise semi-formal attire.

“Now don’t you look like a gentleman.” Barbara said with the widest smile. “And to think I would have to wait for a school dance to snap pics of your first date!”

“Mom, my date is with _Claire, _not Sadia.” Jim said, blushing. Barbara shrugged and took a few more snaps on her phone before she was satisfied.__

__“So she’s your date by proxy! Still counts.” she teased. Wren grinned a little -- her chest was still pounding with the thought of battle coming up, yet she wanted to soak in this last bit of human domestic living, as if it would help fuel her desire to defeat the line of Gunmar. Not that the thought of Lora’s vengeance and Draal’s rescue were not enough; but the more, the merrier. Or rather: more strong in power._ _

__“I’m sure Jim is going to be the perfect gentleman, Barbara. He has done so much to make me feel welcome.” Wren explained gently._ _

__Jim squeezed her arm a little bit after that, as they left to wait for a cab. Barbara insisted that they could borrow her car, but they convinced her that a cab would do. Of course, they did not take a cab at all, and instead took a short cut through the forest and sewers, where they met up with the others. The night was cloudy, threatening to rain, but otherwise eerily still._ _

__“This is really happening, huh?” Toby mentioned quietly. The whole of the Trollhunting team stood a block away from the Museum now, entering the little shadowed park just in front of it. Toby and Eli wore makeshift armor -- a hint of a rune drawn on them by Blinky for protection -- and stood with their respective troll protectors. Blinky walked up to Wren, facing the building with her but sneaking a glance at the young woman from the side._ _

__“Indeed. It’s now, or never.” he then faced his Trollhunter. “Master Wren, are you sure you would like to approach Bular alone?”_ _

__“I have to.”_ _

__She took a breath in and then breathed out. Wren smirked under her burqa and held a hand in one of his. “Blinky, this is it. My entire life you’ve told me that I had to fight for something, to learn how to use my heart. Well, this is it. This is what I’m fighting for: what we’re _all_ fighting for.”_ _

__She turned to the others. “I don’t say this lightly, that I’m more grateful for what you have all done for me since we each respectively met. Even now, despite my blunders, you all chose to stand beside me tonight.”_ _

__The air from her lungs almost stuck in her throat, as if threatening to make her cry, but Wren held strong for her finish -- for her future fight just minutes away._ _

__“All my life, growing up, I begged the Fates for the love you have all shown to me. May that carry us to victory.”_ _

__The boys all looked at one another, and as if with the agreement of a hivemind, immediately descended upon Wren and gave her a hug._ _

__“You’re gonna make me cry, princess.” Toby sniffed, though he smiled and squeezed her as tight as he could._ _

__“I’m already crying!” Eli admitted, stepping back to wipe his face and glasses. Frek laughed his hearty laugh._ _

__“I will save the tears for our victory. But I suppose now is as good a time as any other to wish you luck. I owe you much more, but it’s all I can give.”_ _

__Argh and Blinky too gave her paternal head bumps. Wren then sighed, held out an arm for Jim to hold, and they walked onwards to the trap laid before them._ _

__For Lora._ _

__For Kanjigar._ _

__For Draal._ _

__\----_ _

__The girl came in dazzling, he had to admit._ _

__Strickler pretended to listen to a lawyer’s story as he eyed Wren and Jim enter the building. A few waiters bussed around, offering cuisine from the various stations where chefs worked and showed off their skills._ _

__About her head was an almost-crown, more of a circlet, made of gold that rested just above where her brows would have been. She also wore thick gold bangles and bracelets on her gloved hands, and his hearing picked up the jangle of anklets as well. At least she would be easy to track, should Wren get the smart idea to run away._ _

__In Wren’s defense, Strickler had a feeling she wouldn’t. So he bided his time, carrying on easy conversations with those around him, pretending that he did not intend for them to become troll chow within the hour._ _

__“So glad you could make it, Miss Ali.” Mrs. Nunez greeted her with a cup of wine in hand. “I hope our town has been welcoming?”_ _

__“More than I can express.” Wren replied. Jim carefully made his spot by a suspicious-looking Claire as casually as he could, while the girl’s mother continued._ _

__“As councilwoman, I do what I can do make this town run.” she told her. “If you are ever interested in moving to America, I would be more than happy to personal help you with the process here in Arcadia.”_ _

__“Ugh, Mom! She’s just visiting.” Claire said, looking embarrassed. Wren laughed a little, genuinely, considering the circumstances._ _

__“I’m afraid that is true. There is some business I must finish up here, and then I’ll make my leave.”_ _

__“That’s too bad, we only just met! May I ask when?”_ _

__Wren shifted a little, her eyes trying to look around the room for anything suspicious. She had yet to spot either of the Changelings, but that was likely what they wanted. “Oh, hopefully sometime tomorrow.”_ _

__Mrs. Nunez was about to probe further, clearly confused, when her husband Javier dropped by._ _

__“Ophelia, the _whole_ school administration is here! If you want to make an impression, now’s your chance.”_ _

__“Sure thing, hon. Just a moment.” she told him. But when she turned to face ‘Sadia’ again, she was already gone. “Huh, I guess her business is keeping her busy then.”_ _

__That was when Javier and Ophelia both turned on Jim._ _

__“So, Claire, this is the Jim you’ve been going on about?”_ _

__Jim grinned sheepishly. He pretended to scratch his ear, in reality setting on a bluetooth device that connected him with the others._ _

__“Say, what if I grabbed Claire and I some drinks? Then we can talk.” Jim offered. Before even Claire could comply, he was already heading towards a bar. Softly, Jim said, under his breath, “The hunt is on, over.”_ _

__As Jim juggled both his cover and his time with Claire’s family, Wren walked in a careful scouting pattern. She gave a few hellos, even pretending to compliment the foodstuffs with some passerby. Whenever food was given, Wren would pretend to eat it under her veil, but in actuality hid it within her shirt underneath._ _

__If they all made it out alive, Toby and Eli were going to feast: another little piece of humanity to fuel her fire._ _

__Jim himself was facing his own challenge -- Claire. The two managed to de-tangle themselves from the adults and roamed on their own. It was fair enough for Jim, as he continued to keep an eye out, but was caught off guard by a very blunt and unexpected question._ _

__"So what was up with Mr. Strickler last night?"_ _

__After coughing and roughly swallowing a grilled scallop, Jim gave a forced grin and said, "Wh-what? No!...What?"_ _

__Claire looked serious now. With apparent ease, her chin lifted and she crossed her arms, resembling her mother in almost every way. "I was there last night, in your basement. I saw something. And I heard things."_ _

__There was a silence before Claire continued. At least, between the two of them: Eli gave a quick update from the roof of the museum with Frek. Jim's pounding heart did not help either._ _

__"What's going on, James Lake?" she asked, still stern but eyes softening. "I know what I heard and saw. I know you're into something _crazy._ But if you can't tell me about it, then I can't be your girlfriend."_ _

__"I..."_ _

__"Jim, _please._ "_ _

__As usual, Jim could not say no to those earthy brown eyes. Gently he took one of her hands and held them in both of his._ _

__"I promise I will...soon. But not tonight. Tonight I have...I have things I need to help with. Involving those things you saw."_ _

__Claire grew distressed. " _Jim._ "_ _

__"I promise." Jim repeated. He squeezed her hand lightly and drew her in closer. "But for your safety I can't talk about it now."_ _

__Another moment of silence. This time, Jim watched Claire carefully as she looked down onto the floor and held her free hand to her chest. Eventually, she looked up, her brow furrowed seriously._ _

__"Call me koo-koo, but okay. I trust you."_ _

__"Y-you do?"_ _

__"I trust you to fulfill your promise, to tell me what's going on." Claire stepped back and freed her hand. "Until then, I can't see you. Not when you're keeping secrets from me."_ _

__If heartbreak made a noise, Claire could have sworn she heard it in that moment. Jim's face fell as his hands reached out a little. She could only shake her head._ _

__"I like you Jim, but I don't do secrets. I'll...I'll wait. For now. But I have to know if you want anything to do with me."_ _

__Eventually, he casted his eyes down in defeat. "...I understand."_ _

__He didn't look up to watch Claire walk back to her parents. He did turn away from the direction she walked in to continue his rounds, trying his best to push down the feeling of hurt in his chest. Just then, he received a blaring announcement from Toby._ _

__"Romeo! Where the heck is Hunter?"_ _

__Jim looked around, and saw her nowhere._ _

__\----_ _

__Draal winced as he was tugged towards the Bridge once again. Despite his weakness, he managed to sniff out the scent of the one troll he hoped would never find him._ _

__“Wren…” he croaked, feeling Bular’s blade tickling the grooves of his crystal back. “Wren, you have to leave.”_ _

__The Cleaver responded by slipping off her burqa. The jewelry remained, knowing that it would disappear once she put on her Amulet. It also gave her a desired affect -- appearing before the son of Gunmar as something of an equal. Not only was she a warrior now, but she, too, dressed as a daughter of a leader, with her gold decorations and a proper trollish dress. Bular rose his brows briefly before sneering._ _

__“You play dress up, how cute.”_ _

__“Hand over the Deadly, and I might let you live.” Wren answered cooly. Her Amulet -- unknown of its forgery -- rested confidently on her necklace. Strickler, hands behind his back in his troll form, nervously tapped the real Amulet in his palm._ _

__Bular snorted, and his sword pierced down a little harder onto the sensitive, weaker spots between Draal’s crystals. “Watch your mouth, runt.”_ _

__“Come to the Bridge,” Strickler cut in, walking up the piece of work as he continued, “and we can make the exchange without any fuss. Unless, of course, your lover boy prefers becoming rubble.”_ _

__“ _Go. _” Draal gurgled out in pain. The desperation cut through Wren’s heart but she refused to cave. Instead she confidently strode past Bular, keeping her eyes on him as she strode up to meet with Strickler. She eyed the taller, green troll, trying to ignore the flare of hatred when she spotted Nomura below, in the shadows.___ _

____“Now let him go.” Wren demanded. But something felt off. Strickler’s glowing eyes almost smirked on their own, and Nomura looked far too unsettled for someone who was supposedly sure of herself. Furthermore, for an exchange, the air of it all felt...off._ _ _ _

____An exchange that Bular demanded nothing for._ _ _ _

____An exchange where she was _outnumbered.__ _ _ _

____Wren did not hesitate, forming into a battle stance and beginning the incantation._ _ _ _

____“For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to--!”_ _ _ _

____Strickler backhanded her, the necklace flying off and the fake Amulet crashing, falling apart from the impact onto the hard marble floor. Her eyes widened as her vision spun a little._ _ _ _

____“No!” she shouted, realizing the trick too late. Strickler grabbed her by the wrist, where the hand holding the Amulet punched her again. As her head spun, Wren felt her arm get pinned behind her back and her front get pushed against the bridges edge._ _ _ _

____“Let her go!” Draal bellowed. He grunted when Bular stepped his foot onto his head to keep him down._ _ _ _

____“Hurry on with it, Impure!” Bular ordered. For once, Strickler complied without complaint about the slur, and forced the Amulet into Wren’s free hand. Before she had the coherency to command her armor into being, he pushed her hand and Amulet down onto the Eye Stone._ _ _ _

____Wren’s already swirling vision grew momentarily blinded from the burst of blue-white light, as the magic pulsed throughout Killahead Bridge. Her breathing began to heave._ _ _ _

____“NO!”_ _ _ _

____“Accept your fate, runt!” Strickler shouted in glee. He then looked outwards. “Bular, now!”_ _ _ _

____Wren gave an animalistic and devastating scream, watching in horror as Bular rose up his blade to pierce into Draal’s already weakened back. Wren felt the Bridge drum against her chest and felt nothing but doom and regret throughout her body._ _ _ _

____Just as Bular started to thrust downwards, another blade -- a fiery red -- twirled in the air and knocked the weapon out of his hand._ _ _ _

____For a split second, the room stood still, only the magical hum of the Bridge making any noise. Just from the shadows where the goblins dispersed in shock, Nomura stood with an arm outwards, her other sword in her other hand._ _ _ _

____Wren’s eyes widened. Bular’s narrowed, and he roared._ _ _ _

____“Traitorous scum! What are you doing?!”_ _ _ _

____Before she could another, another curved weapon -- this time, made of stainless steel, in the shape of a boomerang -- flew towards Bular and grazed his arm; it flew back to a window up high, where a crouched shadow caught it and jumped to the floor below._ _ _ _

____“NOW!” Frek shouted. In an instant, there was a chorus of shouts and exclamations as the rest of the Trollhunting team rushed in._ _ _ _

____Jim no longer wore his nice jacket, having replaced it with some arm guards and a chest plate made from the spare parts of his unmade Vespa. He threw out a few knaves, one hitting Strickler in the shoulder. As the Changeling shouted and pulled away, Wren used the opportunity to ram her temple into his chin. Still dizzy, the attack caused her to fall backwards and onto the floor, in front of the magical portal._ _ _ _

____Bular roared, and more focused on Frek -- as well as Blinky, armed with a crossbow -- he did not bother to acknowledge the unarmed troll maiden crawling to Draal. Around the two of them, there was much fighting and bellowing, goblins soon getting mixed up in the mess. Eli could be heard in the distance as he rammed a wooden bat into the goblins as Argh provided distractions and Toby fended off Strickler. Nomura joined in just as Strickler was about to get a good aim at Toby, and got herself into a tangle with her former ally._ _ _ _

____“TRAITOR!” Strickler bellowed, both of them moving gracefully around the other as they spared._ _ _ _

____All at once, Wren’s heart swelled with pride at the team she helped train and forge and confusion as she saw Nomura fight against her supposed friends, but she could not dwell on it, not when Draal was as weak and vulnerable as he was. Wren shook her head in an attempt to clear it, and crawled over to Draal’s side. She helped him roll to his side. Those orange and yellow eyes were dim, but open; Draal’s breathing was raspy. Up close, Wren saw the various bruises and scrapes obtained during his captivity. Her throat tightened._ _ _ _

____“I’m so sorry…” she muttered, horrified. When she tried to help him up, Draal wrapped his hand over her wrist._ _ _ _

____“You need to fight...without me.” he managed to get out. Wren shook her head furiously._ _ _ _

____“Shut up and get up!” she demanded. “You’re coming out of this alive, dammit!”_ _ _ _

____Draal lightly chuckled before coughing, carefully getting pulled up. “Always a tough one to please…”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t get loopy on me, either.” Wren said with a grunt of effort. She faltered a little, but was caught up by Jim. He helped push Draal to his feet._ _ _ _

____“Master Wren, the Amulet!” Blinky cried out. Bular grabbed the historian by the neck and threw him into Frek, the two of them tumbling across the room. He then turned to rush at Wren._ _ _ _

____“No! Don’t let her!”_ _ _ _

____“ _Bular...my son!_ ”_ _ _ _

____Wren froze, a pulse of magic from the portal now causing the air to swirl around her and making her fall down. She looked up in fear, finding herself being eyed down with pure hatred from Gunmar the Black himself; he was a mere step away from entering, though his form faded in and out. His one eye burned a near fiery-white, pulsing with the magic of the Bridge that entrapped him._ _ _ _

____“ _You._ ”_ _ _ _

____So absorbed was Wren in the surreal moment, that she failed to notice Bular charging at her with a raised blade. Draal, as crippled as he was, pushed Jim behind him and stepped in front of the Gumm-Gumm, trying to raise his arm to grab the blade. Instead, it came downards and sliced off his arm It shattered into dust on the floor._ _ _ _

____Draal’s roar of anger and pain brought Wren out of her state of shock and immediately jumped up to the Bridge’s ledge to get her Amulet -- only for Bular to grab her by the ankle and pull her back onto the floor._ _ _ _

____The portal’s magic grew more wild now, Gunmar shouting out to his son as he impatiently waited for the entryway to completely open. The wind blew back anyone else who tried to enter the eye of the bellowing storm._ _ _ _

____“My son, kill her now! Do it!”_ _ _ _

____“With _pleasure_ , Father!” Bular said with a sickening grin on his face. Still holding onto her ankle, the other fist raised up to crush her skull. Wren growled, her love for Draal and Lora overcoming her pulsating fear. Wren whipped around in Bular’s grip, kicking his face with her free foot, and freeing the other as she rose to her feet. _ _ _ _

____The wind was even worse now -- around the two of them and the Bridge, the magic grew chaotic, sucking in random debris into the Darklands. Soon it would suck the two of them in._ _ _ _

____Bular roared, his nose once again bleeding from Wren’s attack. She smirked, feeling a dribble of blood from her own nose go down her lips and chin._ _ _ _

____“Face it Bular! Your precious father isn’t getting out!_ _ _ _

____“His return is inevitable, runt!” he roared, swiping at her with his claws as they stumbled in a circle about the magical whirlwind. “You can’t stop it now!”_ _ _ _

____“Watch me!” Wren pushed her legs off the ground with all her might, landing briefly onto Bular, and using him as a jumping point to reach her Amulet. Her little hands grabbed onto it, and felt them warm from acceptance for its Master. But Bular did not relent, and climbed up the Bridge to grab at her from the side. He had her by the ankle again, clinging to the Bridge as he tried to tug her away._ _ _ _

____“Try all you might, but you can’t stop history in the making!” Bular laughed. “Besides, what are you going to do? Kill me? You don’t have the guts, coward!”_ _ _ _

____Wren struggled to get the Amulet off, and heard it tick to the final countdown of the portal finally opening. Gunmar joined his son’s laughter. But she herself grew a knowing, wild smile, and stared the Vicious right in his glowing red eyes._ _ _ _

____Lora’s wildness, Kanigar’s cleverness, and Draal’s bravery all coursed through Wren in that moment, and she allowed the swarm of hope to swallow her._ _ _ _

____“You’re right, I _don’t_ kill!”_ _ _ _

____Bular’s face fell a little in confusion._ _ _ _

____“But I _can_ do this!” Wren shouted over the power of the magical Bridge. Wren, still holding onto the Amulet, swung her free leg upwards, her trunk-like feet flat out as her heel came down in an arc to ram Bular right in the temple. _ _ _ _

____The blow of her kick, as well as his awkward and precarious angle and grip on the Bridge, caused Bular to lose his footing. He fell down, and inwards, into the Bridge’s portal. By now it was fully open, but it was Wren who controlled its will with her now._ _ _ _

____“I banish you to the Darklands, where you can rot with the rest of your Gumm-Gumm horde!”_ _ _ _

____“NO! NOOOO!” Bular shouted with his father, pushing into him and soon joining him in the shadows. Wren then finally yanked out the Amulet, the magic finally coming to a cold stop and falling onto the hard ground below her._ _ _ _

____It was still. Eerily so. And then, Wren heard the background noise of the exposition, almost as if in a dream. She slowly sat up, and looked around._ _ _ _

____Her trollhunting team all crouched at the end of the room, where a doorway stood. Nomura stood next to them, the first one to look up and see not only Wren, but also Killahead Bridge torn to pieces from its own power. The others followed her lead -- only Strickler lay low, as he was unconcious in Argh’s massive hand._ _ _ _

____Wren stood up shakily, her vision finally clearing up, the jangle of her jewelry meeting her ears. For a silly and brief second, she wondered if she broke anything; she had not, but laughed at herself for worrying about it. It grew louder, until the others joined in joyously._ _ _ _

____“Master Wren! You did it! You did it!” Blinky shouted out. He limped towards her on a lame leg and wrapped her into a massive hug. “By Gorgus, you’ve done it!”_ _ _ _

____The others soon followed suit, though Frek stayed behind to entrap Nomura with her hands tied behind her back. She hardly fought off the contact. Strickler too was tied up._ _ _ _

____“My sweet.” Draal said, still looking worn out as all hell but now with new light in his eyes. Wren’s own eyes pooled with tears and rushed into his chest to embrace him. He grunted a little in pain, and Wren jumped back with a gasp._ _ _ _

____“Oh no, your arm! I forgot!” Suddenly she was filled with guilt. “And it was all my fault too. If I hadn’t...I....”_ _ _ _

____“An arm for the defeat of Bular.” Draal half shrugged with a wide, toothy grin. “And you’re alive. That is all I’ve ever wanted.”_ _ _ _

____He leaned forward and touched noses and foreheads with her. The boys cheered._ _ _ _

____“That was...wow.” Jim said, catching his breath now._ _ _ _

____“Go back, to Trollmarket.” Argh rumbled in seriousness. Wren nodded. They had a huge mess of a Bridge to carry back, as well as two Changeling captives. She ordered Frek, Argh, and their human charges to take them to Trollmarket. Blinky sat down to allow the Trollhunter and his own human charge to tend to his leg. Draal sat down, drinking some water that Blinky had on his person._ _ _ _

____“We can start with the smaller pieces.” Draal began, his voice quiet but stronger now. “The Impures had those...metal contraptions, with wheels, that we can use.”_ _ _ _

____Wren eyed him carefully, no tending to his own bruises with some medicine from Blinky. Ointment was dabbed on his injuries, and tried not to look at the stump that used to be his right arm._ _ _ _

____“Perhaps. But I want you to rest.”_ _ _ _

____He grinned. “I have all the time in the world to rest. My father’s death was avenged, and we are free from Bular’s evil. We have you to thank for that.”_ _ _ _

____Wren flushed, laying a hand onto his chest. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt…”_ _ _ _

____A larger blue hand laid over hers. “Neither did I. Yet, we have our victory. That is all that matters.”_ _ _ _

____He touched foreheads with her again. “Even more so, that I have you.”_ _ _ _

____Wren smiled now, and looked into his eyes. If Blinky and Jim were watching, she hardly cared._ _ _ _

____“Marry me?”_ _ _ _

____Draal’s eyes bulged, but before he could give an answer, Jim yelped. The two turned to where he looked, and found Claire Nunez staring at the monsters before her._ _ _ _

____“You...they...and you…!!”_ _ _ _

____Jim chuckled awkwardly, and turned to face Blinky. “I guess we have a new friend to join the team?”_ _ _ _

____\----_ _ _ _

____No, Claire could _not_ join the team, at least, not yet. Wren felt completely open to it, but as it was, they were busy with clearing out any evidence of Killahead Bridge and the battle over it from the museum. Wren encouraged Jim to return to the party with an overexcited Claire, after they stole Strickler’s keys from the reception desk for them to use. _ _ _ _

____“You sure you know how to drive this thing?” Jim asked, carefully watching Blinky restrain obvious glee over obtaining the vehicle. Wren took the keys and grinned._ _ _ _

____“We’ll figure it out. You just enjoy your date, alright? You’ve more than earned it.”_ _ _ _

____Jim did so, but not without another hug goodbye. He tried not to think about his history teacher now being held prisoner in Trollmarket down below. Wren gave the keys over to Blinky to run with Frek and the boys, so that they could continue bringing in Bridge pieces, so that she and Draal could get to the Heartstone. It was still dark out, so no one would take much notice of them._ _ _ _

____In the Heartstone Chamber, Wren basked in the warmth and pulse of it, and eagerly met with Rika and Vendel with bone-crushing hugs._ _ _ _

____“You made it back.” was all Rika could say, tears in her amber eyes. She pulled back and held Wren’s face in her hands. “I feared the worst, but you made it back!”_ _ _ _

____“I promised I would come back.” Wren said, hugging her again before facing Vendel. Rika dismissed herself to help with Draal -- who was still a bit dazed at being proposed to -- and got to work taking measurements of his arm stump to send to Relkor. Vendel embraced his daughter tightly._ _ _ _

____“Ever since I met you, I knew you were special.”_ _ _ _

____“Papa…” Wren half-laughed, flushing in embarresment. He shook his head, his beard tickling her face._ _ _ _

____“Not just as the Trollhunter, but as a troll, period. As yourself.” Vendel looked down at her with sparkling eyes, full of tender warmth. “My only regret was that I did not admit it sooner, when you were so little and in need of me.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s all in the past, Papa. We have each other now.” Wren told him. She felt light, as if the crushing hatred and fear she felt since taking on the Amulet somehow flew off of her, and into the heavens. Everything was right again, and she took it all in great stride._ _ _ _

____It did not take long for Trollmarket to start a grand feast and celebration of Bular’s defeat. Tables and barrels of glug were drug outside for everyone to eat and drink together, under the crystals of their massive city cavern._ _ _ _

____Bagdwella raised up a tankard, and proclaimed in pride, “All hail Wren the Hunter, bane of Bular!”_ _ _ _

____Trolls and human boys a like cheered. Jim returned since then, looking worn but at peace._ _ _ _

____“So...how are things with Claire?” Wren asked carefully. Jim gave a half-grin._ _ _ _

____“It’s...okay. She still wants to take things slower, after finding everything out. But at least she doesn’t hate me.”_ _ _ _

____“I can understand why. Wren said, when she noticed Draal (now donning a new, golden-metal looking prosthetic for an arm) enter the feast with Frek. Having helped the Trollhunter with defeating Bular, it seemed that he was welcomed back from exile. Draal too looked brighter and more like himself; it seemed Rika worked her magic on him perfectly. All the better, for Wren wished to make an announcement._ _ _ _

____Wren climbed to the top of the table, still glittering in her golden jewelry, and now wearing her golden wedding dress as well, revealing it after pulling off a woolen shawl. Draal’s eyes widened again as the crowd quieted and Vendel stood up._ _ _ _

____“Draal the Destroyer!”_ _ _ _

____The feast came to a standstill, as did her betrothed. Wren’s eyes playfully danced before she made her demand._ _ _ _

____“Let’s get hitched already.”_ _ _ _

____The crowd laughed and whooped and Draal grew the widest smile as Frek gave him a hearty pat to the back. He of course accepted, and Vendel began the vows once Draal took his place beside her atop the table. The boys jittered excitedly next to Frek, and Blinky wiped away a tear as Argh hummed happily._ _ _ _

____“Draal, son of Kanjigar, son of Tarigar, do you solemnly vow to take Wren, my daughter, to be your wife, to remain loyal and steadfast to her and only her, for the rest of your days?”_ _ _ _

____“I do vow, now and forever.” Draal said, steady and eager, his eyes never leaving Wren’s golden beauty._ _ _ _

____“Wren, my kin, do you solemnly swear to take Draal, son of your predessesor, to be your husband, to remain loyal and steadfast to him and only him, for the rest of your days?”_ _ _ _

____“I do vow,” Wren said, almost breathless, “now and forever.”_ _ _ _

____“Then may it be done, by the power of the Heartstone that binds all trolls here today!” Vendel spoke up more loudly, raising up his arms and clanging the staff to the ground. In the background, all trolls felt the pulse of the Heartstone pound in acceptance to the new union._ _ _ _

____“It is done!” the proud father and Elder proclaimed. The feast erupted in roars as Wren and Draal touched noses._ _ _ _

____“I love you.” Draal said, quiet enough for only them to hear. “Always.”_ _ _ _

____“Always.” Wren repeated, closing her eyes and reveling in this moment._ _ _ _

____Far above them, little lights of pastel pinks and blues and yellows danced merrily in the shadows, watching the victory feast turn into a wedding celebration._ _ _ _

____“Verily, the wishes done! What more are we to do?” said one fairy._ _ _ _

____“One day she will come to us.” said another, her little halo her crown. “To find what is true.”_ _ _ _

____The rhymes and spells then swirled among them first as mindless chatter, before the group harmonized and spoke together in a steady rhythm:_ _ _ _

_________Our Little One has found at last_  
_Her calling, love, and family vast!_  
_But will she find the Shadow’s Gloom:_  
_The Land of Gunmar’s Final Tomb?_

_____Merlin help her, help the one --_  
_Make her glory shine like the Sun!_ _ _ _ _

____And then, as they had many decades ago, the fairies faded away into the air, returning to their home in another realm._ _ _ _

____They would not have to wait much longer._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all ;o; my first installment is DONE. HOLY COW! 
> 
> Idk when the next one will be up, but it feels great that I made a novel length story! Can't wait to see where Wren is taken next...

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some headcanons of mine that I utilized in this chapter:
> 
> Disputes among kids/general child-rearing -- Since the life of a troll is said to be harsh, I figured it would reflect somewhat in childhood. Whelps are encouraged to fight honorably if they DO fight, and weakness is not treated very kindly. Kids are also more or less free-roaming, with adults only stepping in if things get hairy.
> 
> Draal with kids -- This will come up in future chapters too, via flashback, but Draal is not totally comfortable around kids outside of topics relating to training or battle. He's just...not very nice, particularly pre-Jim's-Basement-Draal. 
> 
> Orphans -- Think about it! In the wars with Gunmar, many of the whelps were stolen away, and while many trolls were killed too...that didn't leave much for the dead parents to leave behind. Orphans then are a rarity, to the point where even troll law is not specific to their plight. Since kids are free-range anyway, any orphan is normally ignored and left to just do their own thing.
> 
> Gem-cleaving -- In the show it makes it seem like this trade is easy to learn and most people with a steady hand/eye can do it, so I wanted to flesh it out a bit more. Jim *still* needed guidance on how to cleave on most occassions so I figured its a skill that takes years to perfect. And since Vendel is Old Guy McKnow-It-All, I figure he's an expert in it and thinks Wren can be somewhat good with it. ALso that turquoise comes in later....
> 
> Kelpie -- I figured fleshbag creatures of the magical variety live near trolls. Why not?
> 
> Kanjigar's relationship with Draal -- This was hard to write for but i somehow kinda managed??? They do interact but on a strictly professional level, and whenever things come up, Kanjigar tells Draal to stay behind" to "keep an eye on things" while he does Trollhunting stuff. Rarely any interactions personally or otherwise. You'll see this more as the story continues


End file.
